My cum in the hair post reminded me of a certain incident from junior high.
I was a dweeb in junior high. A bonafide reject, at Twentynine Palms Junior High, where even the cool kids would have been chewed up and spit out by some regular kids from a school in the LA district. I didn't even qualify as a geek, since my grades were so shitty. (When a teacher says "You will NEVER pass this class if you don't study!" I take it as a personal challenge.) I had social problems, I was psychotically desperate for attention from authority figures and I was probably clinically depressed, though undiagnosed.
Much of this showed itself in my wardrobe and style choices. (One benefit of having an obsessively workaholic mother? Not much photographic evidence of certain periods.) It was the early '90s, so I didn't have much to work with, either. Dammit, if Seventeen said fuscia colored jeans were cool, I needed eleven pairs! Add in to that, I've been locked in a battle with my hair since I turned 9, when it decided to no longer do the Snow White curl under thing and curl like my daddy was Rick James (biatch!). Each morning was a bitter skirmish, until the day I thought I'd found the magic combination. Leave in conditioner, some anti-frizz formula, some other crap. It was a thing of beauty! Sure my hair was crispy to the touch and kinkier than a Betty Page photo shoot, but hey! It wasn't frizzy! I pulled it back with a bannana clip and went about my business, thrilled with my hair-success.
Sometime later, we had an assembly in the gym. The boy behind me reached forward and pinched a lock of my hair. "Man, you must use a ton of gel!" he said.
"I don't use gel," I said (rather snottily) and turned back to the front, not bothering to mention what I used instead. He dropped my hair instantly, no doubt resolving to go wash the cooties off his hands as soon as we were released.
And to think, I wondered why boys never asked me out.
I was a dweeb in junior high. A bonafide reject, at Twentynine Palms Junior High, where even the cool kids would have been chewed up and spit out by some regular kids from a school in the LA district. I didn't even qualify as a geek, since my grades were so shitty. (When a teacher says "You will NEVER pass this class if you don't study!" I take it as a personal challenge.) I had social problems, I was psychotically desperate for attention from authority figures and I was probably clinically depressed, though undiagnosed.
Much of this showed itself in my wardrobe and style choices. (One benefit of having an obsessively workaholic mother? Not much photographic evidence of certain periods.) It was the early '90s, so I didn't have much to work with, either. Dammit, if Seventeen said fuscia colored jeans were cool, I needed eleven pairs! Add in to that, I've been locked in a battle with my hair since I turned 9, when it decided to no longer do the Snow White curl under thing and curl like my daddy was Rick James (biatch!). Each morning was a bitter skirmish, until the day I thought I'd found the magic combination. Leave in conditioner, some anti-frizz formula, some other crap. It was a thing of beauty! Sure my hair was crispy to the touch and kinkier than a Betty Page photo shoot, but hey! It wasn't frizzy! I pulled it back with a bannana clip and went about my business, thrilled with my hair-success.
Sometime later, we had an assembly in the gym. The boy behind me reached forward and pinched a lock of my hair. "Man, you must use a ton of gel!" he said.
"I don't use gel," I said (rather snottily) and turned back to the front, not bothering to mention what I used instead. He dropped my hair instantly, no doubt resolving to go wash the cooties off his hands as soon as we were released.
And to think, I wondered why boys never asked me out.
3 Comments:
Oh my goodness. For some reason I'm now picturing you as the lead singer from Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam.
My deep dark secret... I had the Garden Weasel huge bangs.
By the way - I use Sebastien Potion No.9 and it works MIRACLES on my hair.
Who didn't have the crazy bangs or big big hair back then?
Owie ..I can only imagine the process of thinking that happened in the poor bloke's head *dies of laughter*
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