Martha Dumptruck

So what does it say about me that I felt oddly threatened and defensive when a little group of four absolutely lovely 13-year-old girls boarded the train home yesterday? They weren't all done up and hookery like most kids today -- they were dressed in an age-appropriate, cute way; their hair was simple and clean and unfussy; they weren't wearing makeup. And they were all so pretty, and none of them was doing a mean-girl thing, and they all looked like they were just kids livin' life.

So why the instant defensiveness on my part? I thought about it as soon as I realized it was happening, and I was like -- OMS, junior-high flashback whoooooa.

Amazing what shitty baggage we carry around, eh? Those girls are not the popular crowd at Cowburg Junior High in 1987, and I'm not the torqued-up Methodist Youth dorkess of the same time and place -- but every once in awhile a good cold hard flashback works wonders to make you appreciate adulthood (mortgages, grey hair and all).

FUCK YEAH, BEING A GROWNUP!