Dear Hello Kitty,
I’m having a tough day. While I am excited about this project, I’m not sure who you are! Tough days remind me of tough times. I remember when I was in the first grade and something traumatic, life altering, happened to me.
It all started normally, I suppose, until lunch came. I’m pretty hyper active and usually, daily really, I would ask my teacher, Mrs. Walls, if I could use the restroom. Sometimes I would preen and sometimes I would primp and sometimes I would USE the restroom, but no matter what, Mrs. Walls would say, “Yes, you may go” after I asked permission.
My school was shaped like a big horseshoe and the first grade restrooms were equidistant to the fifth grade restrooms, but something made me go left instead of right, and I ended up in the fifth grade girls’ restroom. As a first grader, I couldn’t wait to be a fifth grader! These students ruled the school! They could wear makeup and the girls wore bras!
Inside the horseshoe-shaped restroom, I encountered two goddesses—real and beautiful and tall and intimidating and scary and fifth grade girls. They glared at me; said, “Get out of here little first grader!” And, I did! I left! But not all of me left; you see, this was one of those times when I really needed to use the restroom. And, I did. Down the leg of my pants and into my blue sneakers and trickling on the floor, I left. The goddesses just laughed and laughed.
Dejected, I walked, bowlegged to avoid the cold and the stinging to my teacher, who said, “Oh, honey, let’s get you to the nurse.” There I sat, in borrowed clothing until my mom, pulled from an important business meeting at her important job, came to collect me. She drove me home as I cried where a hot bubble bath waited for me to help me reclaim my dignity.
Blue Green Ridge