big ol' puss

big ol' puss
embracing your inner wussy

oh, i'm not shy about it- i am a pussy, in every sense of the word. not only i am a proud owner of the double-X chromosome but i avoid physical contact with angry people because i don't enjoy being punched. at this point in my life i've never been in a physical altercation...assuming i don't get jumped on the way to my car after work today.

my dukes have been involved in a scuffle or two with my sister (which she always won) but full on 'rip-outta-bitches-weave' type of encounters just don't come my way very often. being fairly tall, i walk at a level where smaller arms shoot up towards the sky and my face in order to show happiness or excitement. that's about it when it comes to my physical altercation record- accidental spurts of joy that spawn a shiner on my eye.

during my first year of college i tried desperately to be a bit more typical. with a heavy heart i admit that there was a time that i thought being myself would do nothing but lead to social ruin. all throughout high school i embraced my uniqueness and regarded it as my funky badge of honor. after a mean-girlesque senior year, my pride turned into shame and i felt my identity was something that HAD TO remain hidden. i was half in the closet, had just reached puberty and was thrust into college with no clue as to who i was.

in hindsight, i know who i was at this time. i was the same lil squirt i am today, just less wise to the ways of the world. puberty did nothing but make me taller (and thank god for that, because really- who wants to grow breasts during ones late teens?) it was freshmen year of college and my idea of fun was while wearing an outfit that only an acid-enthusiast would love, my friend and i would wander around campus playing 'paparazzi' (a game that required us to run around and take incredibly unflattering photos of each other then write insanely witty captions that no one thought were funny but us).

the main thing that set me apart from my peers in my early collegiate days was my apathy towards parties. don't get me wrong- i have no issue with others drinking and i love meeting new people but i did miss the boat on loving giant ragers involving kegs and terrible life choices. every time i found myself at such a party i would make friends through chain-smoking, as that was the only place i felt mildly at ease (sorry, mother). in attempts at normalcy, i would go to parties to be a "typical" college kid.

at one party during late fall, as per the usual, i stood stoicly on the stoop. a young boy approached me, no doubt realizing that we were the only two outside and his options were to become fixated on the sky or engage with me... we began a conversation. looking past both the lazy eye and the giant facial birthmark, i hoped that i would see a sign of intellegent life behind his pale brown eyes. i threw reason out the window and disregarded the fact that i was in a sea of lilly pulizer and gave him a chance to really dazzle me- unfortunaly he was just another douchey frat fella who couldn't grasp the concept of an unpopped collar.

just as our conversation came to a close a group of girls exited the party. one girl looked me up and down then walked assertivly over my way- i knew that face...she wanted to eat me alive (and who could blame her, i'm delicious!) from her teeth, to pearls, to hair- this girl clearly had a non-racial love of white. everything on her just glistened. she smelled like victoria's secret and her hairspray had glitter in it...she was fancy. after finally coming toe-to-toe with me she looked me dead in the eye. "hi, i'm sara- have you met my boyfriend?" she said in an adorably bitchy way, while pointing to my new friend. i, not realizing the question was rhetorical, answered with an honest and almost shocked "yes". i didn't understand why she was asking if i had met him when he and i WERE THE ONLY ONES ON THE STOOP.

her interesting phrase choice became all to clear the next day when i awoke to a knock on my dorm door. a friend i went to high school with came with words of warning- "you need to watch your back...you pissed off the wrong sorority girl last night. she wants to fight you." my body lurched forward and my jaw sat in my lap. as my blank expression met his i busted out in a fit of laughter. "you can tell her that she can beat me up whenever she'd like", i said through a sneaky smile, "cause lord knows i'd lose."

my friend seemed confused. to him, throwing myself to the lions was the worst possible idea...and where i completely serious- he would have been right. but my point was simple. accept her challenge, let her know what a silly goose she was for wanting to fight me, possibly get beaten to a pulp, and then laugh about it.

i never did get the shit beat out of me by the sassy sorority girl. it was just one of the many times i took the humorous high road and it worked out for the best. from dramatic arm movements to fists of fury, one never knows when an idle hand will come in contact with their face at a high rate of speed. my artful ways of bobbing and weaving through packed parties and life in general has turned into a magical dance- a dance called 'keeping the peace'...now if only everyone would join in.