Tag Archives: childhood woes

Being an only child is weird, sometimes

Lite-Brite, hell yeah!

The other day, my boyfriend was relating a story about how he and his sister would purposely flood the sidewalk in front of their house so they could create a puddle to drift their Big Wheel across, and I said, “Oh man. Sometimes I wish I had a brother or sister so I had stories like that.

I had cousins, sure (lots of them, actually), and because our families were close, I spent a lot of time with them. But it’s not quite the same. I love the memories I have with them, when you’re an only child, you’re the only non-adult living in your house, and as much as mom and dad love you, they don’t want to spend hours watching you construct complicated Lego cities or elaborate scenarios involving Mr. Potato head. They also don’t want to see you blow up your plastic Death Star (that they paid a LOT of money for), or watch Han Solo punch Ken in the face so he can take out not 1, but 3, different Barbies for the evening.

Was I spoiled? Sure. As an only kid, I definitely reaped the benefits of getting pretty much everything I wanted—within reason. My dad refused to buy me Guess jeans, Nike shoes, and other designer clothes because I didn’t need them. (He was right, I totally didn’t.) But as far as toys went, the only thing I remember being denied was the Millennium Falcon because it was just a little too much money for a hunk of plastic that I would probably destroy by slamming it over and over into the sliding glass door.  Continue reading

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ON feeling cool, aka: Why I hated school, always

So The Guild posted a hilarious video this week, “I’m the One Who’s Cool” and a million nerdy voices cried out “OMG YES” in unison. And I was one of them. The great thing about the song and video is that it can be applied to almost any bullying situation, because it truly captures the horror of being a teenage outcast.

It’s always funny to me when people refer to High School as “the best time of their lives”, because I so don’t feel that way. Actually, since I was tormented for pretty much my entire school career, I kinda hate all of it: grade school, junior high (THE WORST), and high school.

It all started in Kindergarten, when the other “Aimee” insisted that she was superior to me because her name was spelled better. Also, she had her grandmother craft the most amazing Wonder Woman costume for Halloween EVER because she knew it was my favorite show, and she told me straight up that I could never be a good WW because I had stupid blonde hair and she had the perfect length of shiny black hair. Even when I won the part of Juliet in our class play over her (I went to an “alternative” KG, which would take an entre other blog post to explain), she said that plays were stupid and she didn’t want to be in it anyway. Then she threw her Kool-Aid in my face.

I moved around to a few different primary schools, and at the first one I was involved in an advanced reading class, which I LOVED, and which the other kids so did not. Branded a “stupid brain” for actually wanting to go and read stuff, my books were frequently knocked off my desk, I received notes calling me all kinds of names, and during one specific incident wherein I raised my hand to remind the teacher that it was time for the advanced reading group to leave, I got pushed in the hallway and bombarded by spit balls at lunch. Continue reading


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