i thought about being 20 when i was 12

I remember that when I was young for the longest time I would sit and think about and wish with my tiny stunted little heart for boys to find me attractive.  I was, how you say, kind of awkward when young.  I was always taller than the boys in my class (until high school came and stretched them), my face hadn’t developed into its’ adult featuredness, and I thought I had fat thighs (now they are referred to as “thunder thighs” which I enthusiastically encourage and severely adore).

But I used to get so so epically upset in grade, what was it, 5 maybe? – about boys never telling girls anything.  I used to have a crush on someone at all times.  At least one crush at every time in my life, if not more than one per grade. And I was always a gutsy little chicka and was either really obvious about it (like, chasing them around the schoolyard obvi, so that at the parent-teacher interviews my teacher bonded with my madre over “oh, it’s so cute how she chases him”) or I simply told them, “hey, yeah, what’s up, yeah, so listen uhhh… I like you.”

Nobody does that these days.

I’m one of a kind.


Anyway, so I don’t particularly remember how any of these love connections turned out, except for that they didn’t.  I don’t remember what the boys said when I explained how we should have babies or be married and have a mortgage in the future.  Too bad, so sad, I know.

We used to play this game where you wrote down different kids, names, jobs, cars etc, and then count till a certain number, like 10, while slowly pointing at all the different things you wrote down.  So, for example, if you have my name, and from my name you count till ten, and you end up on Lamborghini for a car, you cross that car out until you have one of each category left.  I could live in a toilet bowl with Eric and have 6 children and a job selling houses.  I don’t know why but this game kept me fascinated for the longest time.

Sims also keeps me pretty preoccupied, even to this day.  Life-planning.  It’s like… weird. I know.

Anyway, now I don’t really need the attention (I just wanted them to marry me, GODDAMNIT, is that so fucking hard for a 10 year old?), but working at a bar gives you attention regardless.  Waitresses are easy targets for men while drinking: we’re harmless, we’re nice to you (theoretically) when you’re respectful to us and pay us and we’re not going to be bitches just for the sake of it.  Other women will blow you off without batting an eyelash.  But we know methods of building your ego without agreeing to anything you said.   We’re wise that way.

It’s just surprising to get attention, after so many years of thinking you’re this way, you’re not conventionally good-looking etc.  I mean – I have the most Russian face ever (yes, not always considered a bad thing, but not typical as far as I was concerned) – everyone I meet asks me where I’m from because they know I’m not the normal “white Canadian”.  Growing up I knew that, and it was hard to come to terms with, I guess?  I was never a bad-looking kid, although at the time I thought I was simply horrendous.  I’m not sure why – or what caused me to think that in the first place, but I did.  I thought I had fat thighs for god’s sake – at 12!

Now, I’m 20.  8 years later and of course, I still have certain issues with my body.  But surprisingly, being in the relationship that I am (ie. the most amazing one ever), has only given me confidence about my body.  It has made me see that real men don’t want stick thin girls because that is not what a healthy woman looks like.  A healthy woman has curves.  Is bodacious.  Has softness in all the right areas and isn’t afraid to wear a bikini to show it all off.

This confidence transcends a personal level to a social one – I have become (since leaving that universal hellhole of a requirement of high school) a lot more outgoing, and sometimes very forward.  I am not afraid of my body, and I am not afraid to take a compliment. I think that if someone makes the effort of complimenting you, turning it down would be a disservice to yourself.  It’s like saying, I really don’t think my body is as great as you think it is. And while we may all have that nagging little bastard at the backs of our minds, there’s also a reason that willpower (and consciousness, for that matter) exists: to keep thoughts like that in check, and be able to say, “Why thank you, I think I do look rather ravishing in all black,” or “I do know my eyes are a stunning green colour” – take the compliment.

I hate people that don’t. “No, no, what are you talking about? Are you crazy?”

No, I am not crazy. I think you look fantastic. So shut the fuck up and sit down and just… just shut up and get happy with yourself, man.

Anyway, it’s just funny that I’m finally at an age where men’s attention is acceptable, and is present – because I always thought it would be so different. I thought it would be so courteous and melodramatic and charming.  When really, while it does tend to charm the shoes straight off my feet (sometimes), it’s just flattery at its’ finest.   But no matter what it is – it’s nice to hear.

It’s nice to be confident, for a change.

Even for a few days.  Even if just in my head. The fact that people start treating you like an adult helps. Talking about sex helps too, for some unknown reason – makes me feel like people see me as an adult with experiences and opinions, and not some douchebag high school kid.

Strange to think that this is what grew out of that “ugly duckling” though.  Putting yourself back in the mindset of a 12 year old thinking about being 20 is a very disembodying experience.  I like the attention (or, affirmation, I should say?) but I almost don’t need it.  I have my boyfriend, and he’s all the affirmation I need.  All the love I need.

And isn’t that wonderful?



2 thoughts on “i thought about being 20 when i was 12

  1. I prefer your brand of showing interest. I remember a particularly confusing and traumatic event that transpired when I was tow-headed youngster playing on the shore of the lake in my hometown. I had built a sandcastle of which I was very proud and I noticed a girl who had been watching me throughout the whole process. She had a year or so over my six years of age and I appreciated the attention even though I didn’t quite know why yet. Then she walked over, told me that my sandcastle was stupid and walked away reducing to shambles for years to come the confidence I felt around slightly older girls who happened to look at me for more than a few seconds.


    • Awww… that’s so cute/sad. Somehow, 6 seems like a pretty phenomenal age – whether you learn the most or you suck at things the most I don’t know. But I remember it in a strange kind of fog….


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