Baby, You're A Rich Man Too...

I remember walking into Yoga the first week of my freshman year, rolling out a mat nervously as the previous class left. "I haven't been to a concert for almost a month," a raven-haired girl with beautifully large eyes told a Greek-maiden-esque beauty, tying her grungy black high-tops while the other adjusted the lace that covered her firm breasts. "I feel terrible."

Jesus, I thought; I'll never be that cool. I don't know that much about music, I don't have any style, and those girls will probably never look twice in my direction.

Survival in high school barely seemed possible; to flourish thus seemed a hopeless quest.

Well, I've survived, and although my style will probably never match Jaya's or Adrianne's (sp?), I caught myself telling a friend in frustration, "I haven't been to a concert for three weeks!"

Hmmm...






Won't say too much about it, but the second night (top ticket) was definately the best concert I've ever been to.

Anyway. I'm going to tell a story now that I've only ever told to Renata and LK. I feel like telling it.

I used to be a very awkward kid. Oona said once (actually, several times) that the catchphrase of her childhood was "weird." Mine were "awkward" and "antisocial." I was very awkward. I couldn't talk to people at all. I chopped all my hair off in sixth grade. I was very tall. People in my building thought I was in college. I was chubby. I'm not afraid to tell you that I weighed in at 132 by the end of eighth grade. In retrospect, the haircut was kind of cool when it evened out. I loved it some days and hated it most days.





^^^Bad hair day





^^^Mediocre hair day

(Footnote: Elena took those pictures and gave them to me in a scrapbook for Christmas. It was one of the best gifts I've ever recieved. Being able to put pictures in like that makes me so proud of myself... I think I'll put more pictures in my blog from now on, just to keep things lively. Anyway...)

I read a lot, and knew a lot of Shakespeare, and a lot of semi-obscure writers and a lot of obscure music. Everything was Elvis and Gerry Lee Lois and Gene Vincent and Roy Orbison and Cannonball Adderly and Frank Sinatra and Little Richard. (OK, those aren't that obscure. I did listen to some obscure stuff, though.) I was actually pretty cool, when I think of it now, but I didn't feel cool.





^^^Me after 8th Grade Play. I was a mother.



^^^Already a gypsy... Halloween after eighth grade. Yes, that's Eddie Baurer in the background. Wonder what I was looking at?

So I made me some friends and bought a bunch of cool clothes and went really hippie for a while.

Then my friends went away and I hit maximum weight (132.5) and felt fat and ugly. Eventually I made new friends and my hair grew back and I started doing a lot of yoga. Eventually I did a bunch of situps and flattened out my stomach. People stopped calling me "young man." I made some friends on St. Marks' Place who liked the way I read. Ash talked to me about Shakespeare. I thought I was in love with him. It took me a while to realize that he was so egocentric--not egotistical, per se, but egocentric--that he would never be able to fully love me back. I was heartbroken but I was stronger. I lost weight without doing anything and leveled out at 128. Ash went to college. My acne got better. I made more friends. I bought more clothes. And more. And more.

And I decided that hating my body was ridiculous.

So I woke up early--at around four--one morning and went to the Y. I went to the locker room and stripped naked, unlacing each shoe and taking the beads out of my hair and taking off my rings and bracelets and earrings and being pure and clean and beautiful. It was one of the most moving experiences I've ever had. At the end of an hour I put on clean undergarments and wrapped a silk scarf over my hair and wore a plain white shirt and jeans and red sneakers and I packed an apple, some string cheese and a water bottle into my backpack and walked all the way down to the East River. From there I trekked to the very tip of the island. I had intended to walk back, but I found a subway card in the pocket of my jeans so I went to Columbia and ate lunch in the Seinfeld cafe.

I can't say I'm in love with my body, but since then I've been much better about it.

And so I stopped doing situps and didn't eat especially healthily and was relatively happy. And I discovered that happiness will help you lose weight a lot faster than diet plans and starvation and angst all combined.

By the time I started dating Harry I was at 125, where I've stayed to this day.

I'm not slight but I'm not heavy for my height. I cry a lot but I'm pretty happy. I don't have amazing amounts of self-confidence, but I usually feel adequate enough to talk to people. I'm not incredibly stylish but I dress moderately well (I think). I don't really do much yoga any more but I still meditate once or twice a week, and I don't wear makeup any more but I feel much more feminine. I'm easily repulsed and easily moved and easily hurt, but I'm not weak because I'm capable of moving on and dealing with the pain. I've got plenty of friends, even though the snobbish girls in my grade still don't talk to me, and I don't really care that they don't. I've become a much better writer since then. I don't really understand why my friends like me or want to befriend me, but it's OK because they do. I've discovered a lot of music and seen a lot of concerts and read a lot of books and become relatively learned about a lot of things. I've learned about love and I've learned about romance and about jealousy and anger and pride and everything in between and now that I've stopped being snappy and distant (results of yesterday's severe hormone swing that involved me shouting "I need to go to Chris because I'm bleeding out of my vagina!" at Greg and Harry at 3:15 on the fourth floor of the main building) I feel kind of proud of who I am.

A lot of people don't like me for reasons I can only imagine, and that's OK too. I'm still a little awkward. I don't move well or talk with ease to people I don't know, but I still talk to people and make friends.

I snipped off a little piece of my hair in the mirror last night, just to see if it would actually cut. It felt nice. I even sharpied a bit of my hair purple during Chem. The color is between Joslyn's and Frankie's, and I like it so much I'm considering doing my whole head. Then again... I was pretty much set on dying it this Friday with Rachel when I looked in the mirror to check out a pair of jeans I found and realized that I kind of like plain brown. It's kind of nice.

Maybe I'll just put some beads back in or something.

So here I am, wearing some plain jeans that don't fit me very well but which I love and a torn, tied t-shirt I bought yesterday for four bucks that depicts a yellow-eyed cheshire cat with a striped red-and-white body. My hair is tied up and a little purple in one corner and my feet are bare except for a silver Indian ankle bracelet and I'm listening to Simon and Garfunkel's Concert In Central Park and the bit where they offer a round of applause for the guys selling loose joints in the park, and I feel lke a Greek goddess in a modern skin.

In the words of Frankie, and probably a lot of other people as well, you've come a long way, baby. That's not to say that I've lived up to Jaya or Adrianne, but I've got a few more years of high school left, and I think I'm doing pretty well.

I feel beautiful.

Maybe it's a hormone thing.

Still.

It's really lovely.