I remember my teen years as one where I was quite the rebel. I dressed as if I was channeling Molly Ringwald, listened to The Smiths and tried to take up smoking clove cigarettes. (Note to impressionable young readers: don’t bother with the clove cigarettes they taste like a burnt spice cabinet and no one looks cool hacking up mucus chunks)
I’ve come to the realization that it is quite possible that I was no where as cool as I pictured myself. I knew I didn’t have what it took to be a popular girl. First there was the problem with my laugh- when I really get going I snort. You never see a popular girl snort. Secondly, I lacked any and all athletic ability which might have propelled me to popular status. Thirdly, contact with boys reduced me to acting like an extreme special needs individual. It has been my experience that teen boy are not interested in socially maladaptive girls.
Despite never being popular, I never really got going as a rebel either. I was a good student and was generally nice to my elders. I didn’t like the taste of beer (which was all anyone could ever afford) so at parties I would take a bottle, pour it into a planter somewhere and fill it up with water. (a few years later in college I would discover vodka, but that is another story) Then there was the fact that I considered it a very real possibility that my father would kill me if he ever caught me doing drugs, having sex or doing any activity not approved of by the young Republican’s association. Actually, I feared that should my father catch me engaged in any of these activities I would wish for death as a sweet release from my pain. I did engage in a lot of pranks (more of these in the weeks to come), but the truth is I made a lousy teenage rebel.
I’ve decided to take up being a rebel now. This has several advantages: my dad can no longer ground me, I’ve got my own car and I don’t have to wear a school uniform (it is really hard to look like a rebel with navy knee highs). I’ve decided that for my first act as a rebel I’m going to give up worrying about what other people think. Not the people that matter in my life- but all the extra people, people who feel comfortable saying what they think are the “right” kinds of books, fashion, politics or views. I’m going to do what is right for me and if someone looks down their nose I’m going to walk right past-and give a big, loud, snorty, laugh.
Still hungry for more Deb news? Mia King is being hosted by Tasha Alexander for a cocktail party over at Good Girls Kill for Money. You don’t want to miss this so be sure to stop by!