What if I could have written a blog when I was twelve?
I had so much to say, but things I probably would never have made public. I certainly would not have had any recipes of my own to share. I may have talked about boys that I thought were cute, but probably not, as I wouldn't want anyone to know. It was 1974, and I had a wonderful pair of navy blue hip huggers with kelly green flowers on them.
I probably would have talked about books. What books did I read when I was twelve? I hadn't started 'Gone with the Wind' yet, I think that was 9th grade. I am sad that I can't remember what I was reading. I was past the Little House books, and never was a big Nancy Drew fan (I didn't develop my taste for mysteries until a few years ago). I know I had my nose in a book, all of the time, but clearly nothing that made a huge impression on me.
I try so hard to remember what it felt like to be that age. I remember feeling awkward, all of the time, and like I didn't quite measure up. I wasn't the perfect daughter, I had big thighs (seriously, when I was twelve, I was obsessed with this notion of having large Gulsvig thighs, that's what my mom called them), and my little brother tormented me, all of the time. I had a baby sister, (Heather would have been nearly a year old at this time), so I am guessing I was pretty busy helping out with her. Rinsing diapers, helping my mom clean the house.
I was in band at the time, playing the trumpet. I really wanted to play the flute, but my parents thought I should try my uncle's trumpet to see if I even liked it. Seriously? I wasn't smart enough yet to figure out that if I really liked it, they would tell me there was no reason to buy a flute, and if I DIDN'T like playing the trumpet, they would not have shelled out the money for a flute, as clearly I was not cut out for band. We practiced in the morning, before school started, in the storage room for the cafeteria. I remember being surrounded by institutional cans of creamed corn, and tomatoes, and the tinny notes of our instruments bounced off the cans with a horrid echo. I was always self conscious about the red half moon above my lips that appeared after an hour of blowing on that trumpet for all I was worth. I would hold my hand over my mouth for the first half of the day.
And then there was recess. I HATED recess, as it was just one big popularity contest. Would the 'in' girls invite me to play foursquare? I often volunteered to help our teacher at recess time, covering bulletin boards, or some other project, so I could avoid the playground. And of course then I was labeled a 'brown noser'. Which was fine with me, as my teacher's name was Mrs. Brown, and I adored her. To this day, she is still one of my favorite teachers. Perhaps because she occasionally rescued me from the mean girls.
Hey, I would have had a LOT to talk about if I could have blogged when I was twelve. Bet you're wishing I had a picture of me in those hip huggers.