I have this tendency to think of past moments of embarrassment and relive them over and over in my head. I think most people do this. I however do this on a daily basis and sometimes it even prevents me from sleeping at night. I could be walking down the street and suddenly like a punch in the face I will remember some awful embarrassing moment and it won't leave my head. I often have to talk myself off the mental ledge. This “talk” usually ends with an outburst of “SHUT UP” or “STUPID ASS” that I fail to realize I said out loud until I see other looks on people’s faces that are next to me.
I have decided that rather than reliving these moments in my head and looking like a crazy person- perhaps a good way to bury the hatchet would be to reveal my most embarrassing, trying moments in my blog for everyone to enjoy.
In eighth grade most of the "popular" people had stopped dressing up to prove how adult and cool they were (this was before Halloween meant dressing up like a slut for our age group). They would still trick or treat - they weren't too cool for free candy- but they would just show up with a bag and an attitude then egg your house. If people mentioned they were dressing up around any of the "popular" crowd they would scowl and say something condescending about Halloween and it being for babies- most people avoided the subject as the struggle with adolescence and popularity raged on.
Eighth grade was the peak of my awkwardness. I was hideous- braces, acne, pubic chub and my hair started curling . I was a pretty big loser. I was known as a "fudge packing fairy" even before I WAS a “fudge packing fairy”. People avoided me like the plague and the few brave souls who were friendly with me were just as bad off. In previous years I would dress up for Halloween because I loved the damn holiday- a chance to escape my life and pretend I was someone else- it was theatrical and I was all about theater. When I had heard it was uncool to dress up I was saddened but made a mental note that if I came to school dressed up it would be social suicide- I was still recovering from my seventh grade disastrous turn as Puck in my English class's production of "Midsummer nights Dream" (A whole other fucking story that I don't want to think about- lets just say suspenders shorts, an ugly hat and wings).
Halloween night I wasn't invited to do anything and I stayed home with my parents while my older sister went to get drunk dressed up like a whore (seriously, that was her costume). I decided, hey no one will see me; I can dress up for Halloween. I went up to my room after dinner and took a good look around for something I could throw together as a costume. Amongst the many posters for musicals, my fake stage bunk beds (I made curtains around the bottom bunk and had a cardboard audience I pasted to the top bunk) and my shadow box sets- there it was, my sparking glitter green top hat tacked to the wall. I had bought this hat during the St. Patrick's Day blow out sale at our local Hallmark because it reminded me of the hats from "A Chorus Line"- but green- and I loved that show. (I used to dance around my room for hours with that hat on- pumping it off and on my head as I had seen them do in the movie). It hit me- "Leprechaun". I quickly grabbed it off its hanging tack and began to rummage through my chest of costumes (Yup I had one). I found a number of cheap St. Patrick’s Day items, like a paper vest, a green plastic bubble pipe, shamrock stickers- damn I had a lot of that Irish shit. I pulled out my clown make up and went to work.
The final outfit consisted of green sweat pants pulled up to “knickers” form, white athletic socks as tights, black dress shoes, a white button down shirt from my dad, the paper vest, the plastic bubble pipe, a "Crown Royal" velvet bag attached to my side for my “sack of gold”, green lipstick, shamrocks painted on my face and the piece de résistance- the green glitter top hat. I thought I looked pretty rocking. My mom was very impressed and I was put in charge of answering the door while she went to grab another glass of wine from the Carlo Rossi jug in the garage.
The bell rang- my first customers. My dad was super into Halloween as well so he rigged up this skeleton to stand when you opened the door- little kids would shriek with delight when this happened. I swung open the door to scare the kids watched their faces light up with fright. Parents laughed, I laughed, I would hand the candy out, graciously take complements from parents on my costume and all was good in the world.
This exercise in door opening went on for another hour and slowly tapered off. I went to the basement to watch "Child's Play" with my dad while my mom sipped wine in the family room because she "didn't want to watch that crap" (who could blame her really, if I had known how much fun it was to sip wine at that age I am sure I would have been right there with her.). Around 9pm the door bell rang. My mom shouted down in her customary manner for me to get the door. I looked at the clock in the basement and thought "huh, it’s late for little kids but oh well". I jaunted up the stairs in my little outfit and grabbed the candy bowl.
When I opened the door there they were- a group of "popular" girls from my class. They were of course dressed in black, attitudes in full swing clutching plastic gap bags. “Ugh… trick or treat …sigh”. When they finally looked up from their outstretched bags their eyes widened. They began to snicker. I was in shock, this was death- I dropped the candy bowl. I bent over to pick up all the candy that lay at my feet and my sparkling hat fell off into the pile, dusting glitter everywhere and rolling away from me. The girls shrilled with laughter and delight at my fumble. Eventually I gathered myself and the candy- gave each of them a piece and closed the door. I heard them shouting and howling outside saying things like "Oh my god what an ass! He looked so ridiculous- what a faggot!" as they tread down the front path.
I stood there, dumbfounded. I was caught. I was caught being as uncool as you could possibly be. My mom called out "who was that!?" and I responded with "I HATE YOU!" (Good pre-teen rational at work there). I then caught a glimpse of my ridiculous costume in the hall mirror and proceeded to run upstairs awash in tears.. My mom was yelling something at me but I couldn't hear, my face was burning and I was deaf with devastation. I slammed my door and ripped off my paper vest, rubbed off the make up as best I could and tossed my beloved hat aside. Eventually my mom realized something was up and came to check on me. She saw her little gay son sitting there in his curtained bed, weeping the green shamrocks off his face. Her face went from ready to yell to “Oh shit, what happened”. She sat down, rubbed my back and listened (She should have offered me some damn wine.). Her advice was if anyone said anything just say you were getting ready to go to a party next door- she assured me no one would care what a group of silly girls said.
The stupid thing is- people did care! The next day boys were asking me why I was wearing make up last night, “were you getting ready to let your dad fuck you?” (I always found that such a strange comment- that was molestation and incest-not gayness). To top it all off I had gym that day, which any artistic, theatrical, or just plain gay boy can tell you- is not our favorite class. When I was through changing into my sweats and on my way out of the locker room I was asked if I planned on jacking them up to my knees so I can “get fucked in the ass”- sans father comment. It was a shitty day to say the least. It took about four days that felt like a lifetime to live it down.
For the next few years in my life when October 31st rolled around I didn’t think of candy and pumpkins- I thought of humiliation. Once I reached college and discovered that Halloween meant getting drunk and making out- I was sort of ok with it. It wasn’t until recently that I even thought about the middle school event - once again an unwelcome blast from the past. In retrospect there were far worse moments in my life but I think the reason this stuck was that one of the girls laughing at me that evening had been my very good friend the year before. She had turned on me. This same young woman even made a come back in my life as an insta-friend once I transfered out of that school. She never apologized for her remarks that night claimed not to remember a lot of her vicious behavior- her parents were going through a divorce at the time- I guess its all realtive when one really thinks about it. I don't talk to her anymore.
I still sort of hate Halloween and think that people use it as an excuse to act like bigger assholes than they already are- but with costumes on... or slutty outfits, so they think it makes it ok.
2 comments:
It was kind of like that with my high school. Sixth grade was the last for most of us. But the freaks and geeks that I ran with at school decided on our senior year to dress up again at school. We just showed up in costumes and went about like it was normal day. Sure we got flack from some of the popular kids but they were the seven (out of a class of 20)that didn't dress up. It actually felt good to have them being the ones on the outside for once. Then in college it was acceptable to dress up for Halloween. Just like it was acceptable to come to class in your pajama pants. Thank god high school and all its bull is over with.
Yikes. I dressed up and went trick or treating in the neighborhood until I was 17. Sad, eh?
I never heard too many horrible rumors about you though...of course I was not popular at all.
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