I was kind of a late bloomer in life. I started liking members of the opposite sex at a relatively late age. That same day, I started getting an outbreak of zits. It was the first day of my junior year in high school. Kelli was my lab partner in Biology the precious school year, but I didn’t pay much attention to her. But she wore a tight white blouse and even tighter dark blue jeans. WOW!
Later that day iin the cafeteria Kelli was carrying her food tray to a table when a fork fell off the tray. She bent over to pick up the tray. I was embarrassed by the resulting bulge in my pants. I wanted to ask her out, but I wanted to check my appearance before asking. When I finished eating, I went to the bathroom to comb my hair. While combing, I noticed that my face had been infested with pimples. This wasn’t one zit – that would have been bad enough considering I had never had a blemish of any kind on my face before.
My face looked like a zodiac map. there were too many zits for “Connect the Dots.” Feeling my face was like reading “The Bible” in Braille. I wondered how this could happen to me. There were no zits when I washed my face that morning. My face was washed every morning because I was so afraid of getting a zit. Now I looked like a pizza with extra pepperoni.
That evening was the start of the “Clearasil Drenchings” I’d hold my nose and dunk my face in a bowl of Clearasil. Then I took the pads (one pad for each pimple) – I wanted to make sure all of the zits were off of my face.
It took forever (a week) for those pesky zits to disappear. I soon had the resolve and the muster to ask Kelli out, but by then she was already seeing somebody.
[This is part of the A-Z of Life series. Check out the other posts!]
2 Comments | tags: acne, adolescence, Clearasil, dating, growing up, pimples, school, zits | posted in A-Z of life, humor, life, satire, thoughts
Sometimes I am amazed that my parents are still married. Not because they constantly bicker (they have their spats, but no more than average), but they are so different from each other in so many ways.
My father stole his “Ward Cleaver” persona from Hugh Beaumont. I had nightmares watching “Leave it to Beaver” reruns that I would end up like the Beaver (or worse, Wally). He is also a card-carrying Republican. He is the most no-nonsense person I know. “Your hair is so long it’s in two time zones,” is the only joke he ever told (and he only said it once.) He is a vice-president of a business consulting group in Washington, DC.. His name is Robert.
My mother was the stereotypical flower-child during the Woodstock era who never outgrew that stage. She is extremely liberal to the point where she often accuses Barack Obama of being a “neo-con.” She is normally easy-going, but goes ballistic when somebody cusses. She is the daughter of Romanian immigrants who to the best of my knowledge were a lot like my parents. (My grandfather died in a freak accident before I was born, but I had been told he is exactly like my father.) She is a sculptor and a tutor. Her name is Ged.
There are conflicting stories as to how they met, so I’ll tell you the parts that both my parents agree: Blind date and alcohol. They stayed together during my growing years because they didn’t want to bother with the hassles of divorce and shipping off or picking up the kid (me) every weekend. Now, they’re together because they learned to love each other (I think). I have my mom’s joy of life and good natureness, my father’s looks and business savvy, and Mrs. Clementine’s panties.
2 Comments | tags: growing up, Hugh Beaumont, Leave it to Beaver, opposites attract, parents | posted in humor, life, observations, thoughts