My one regret about my childhood, especially my teen years, is the way I dealt with pop culture. I know it sounds silly. You'd think I would have bigger issues with my eventual downward spiral in school or my total lack of ambition. But, if we are being honest, it was my avoidence of any and all music, movies, t.v. and popular culture that was considered to be for girls.
Now, I understand that it's not the most important part of life. But, for me, it was a denial of myself. I LOVED everything about the world of pop culture and was drawn to it by some unknown force. And, yes I understand that many people out their, especially those of a different generation might think of me as stupid. I know that someone may disagree with the singers and actresses and role models I wanted to follow, but I am a child of the 1990's and I can't help that. I don't make fun of people who grew up in the 1980's and adored "Tiffany". Of course if I had grown up in the 1980's I would have been all about Cyndi Lauper, just so you know.
I was around eleven years old when I noticed I could no longer relate to the other boys. I didn't know anything about sports and I wasn't into their music. It was the late 90's (about 1997). The past few years had been easy enough. I didn't have to know about boy stuff, and what I did know was the rare boy stuff I was interested in. But cartoons and a few action movies were no longer going to cut it in these new discussions about Baskeball players and the best and coolest new car. One of my schoolmates who always talked about his much older brother, came in one day with stories of the new motorcycle his bro had purchased. The guys gathered around with interest. I tried my best to pretend I cared, but I couldn't help drifting off into a daydream.
I often daydreamed, or spaced out, when in school. I found it hard to focus in most subjects. English came easy to me and so did History, but the rest of the day (especially during Math) I was lost. I gazed out of the corner of my eyes, sometimes I even caught myself staring straight at them. The Girls. But, not the girls exactly. I looked at their clothes and shoes and handbags with an envious pit in my stomach. Here they were, in the same room with me for six hours and they were not only developing into young women, but developing a sense of style. They had the new and most popular clothes and shoes. They talked about the things that 11 and 12 year old girls talk about and I was stuck dressed in uncomfortable, boring boy clothes while having to listen to boring stories about motorcycles and who swished a jump shot at the buzzer! Not Fair!
Toward the last few months of sixth or seventh grade (I forget which, it's not that important.) the teacher reasigned our seats. It was nerve-racking to say the least. I had gone most of the year building a boy-ish persona with the guys that sat around me. Now, all of a sudden I was going to have to be on my toes and pretend and build a reputation all over again. But, as luck would have it, I sat at the end of the back row. I was at least two to three desks away from any other boys and my closest neighbor sat to my right....her name was Amanda.
Of course if this were a dream journal the next part of the story would involve Amanda and I becoming friends and that would lead to getting my first make-over. But, since I'm telling the truth this is what actually happened.
She wasn't the most beautiful girl and she wasn't particularly well dressed. She usually wore the girl's t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but once or twice a week she wore these black high heeled mules. I loved them and I mentioned it, in the way a guy picks a girl up in a bar. It was something I'd seen on T.V. and it seemed to make the comment socially acceptable. I got an excited "Thanks!" She then began talking about them. Where she got them, why she liked them and how much they cost. I hung on every word with delighted interest. I tried to seem "whatever" about the whole thing, but she just kept going and even though it was mainly a one way conversation it was the closest I had come to real "girl talk" in my life. I managed to tell her that they were "cute" without it sounding too weird or feminine. I was loving this.
The conversation lulled for only a moment before she said "I really, really think these shoes are awesome, but I wanted the ones Britney Spears has in her video. My momsaid I couldn't get them though." I didn't know what she meant. I didn't know who Britney Spears was and I had never seen her video, so I quickly replied "Who's that?" Amanda gave me a look I'll never forget. She went from pure excitement to a puzzled expression of wonderment before I finished my question. "Don't you watch 'TRL'? it's on MTV." She couldn't fathom the idea of someone who didn't know Britney Spears, so when I told her I rarely watched MTV she wouldn't stand for it. "After school on MTV is a show called TRL. They show videos and you vote for your favorite. Britney is probably going to be number 1 again, so make sure you watch it." She had basically given me an order and I knew I had to follow it, not for her, but for myself.
The reason I rarely watched MTV sounds ridiculous these days. No one would think I wanted to be a girl if I was watching a pop music video, but back then I took no chances. I knew I wanted to watch Spice Girl videos. I had seen bits and pieces, but I kept the sound low, the channel flipping back and forth from the video to cartoons. I was horrified at the thought of someone finding me caught up in the music, maybe even dancing or singing along. But, now I had no choice. Now I had an obligation to Amanda. I did promise her after all. And, if I missed the video I'd miss the next day's opportunity to talk about Britney's shoes and maybe never have another girl talk again.
I couldn't risk it.
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