My dear friends Fran informed me that a saga contains more than two stories, someone should inform her of the virtue "patience".
So the saga continues:
I used to work as a corrections officer in a local jail and it was an interesting job. Not just because of the felons I saw day in and day out. Or the fights, or the handcuffs, or the maglites. It was mostly because of the odd people I worked with. Like a man I will call "Mr. Flynn" to protect the innocent.
One day I was visiting "Mr. Flynn" and he had a knack for saying the darndest things. and he told me I look like... Guess.... Guess who he told me I look like.
No, not beautiful gorgeous Charlize Theron.
Guess again.
Nope, not Scarlett Johansson.
Guess again.
OK give up!
I know this was going to be your next guess.
Well, if you guessed George Hamilton, you guessed correctly. (It doesn't count if you remember this from my Facebook status. That's cheating.)
Don't you see the resemblance?
Obviously we were separated at birth.
I mean look at our hair, it's the exact same shade of Blondey-black.
You certainly can't deny it.... it must be our skin tone, we were both going for that tanny-pale look.
Oh wait, I see what "Mr. Flynn" meant. He was saying how much I looked like a man. I get it. Yeah, I totally see how much I look like that George Hamilton guy.
Or wait.... maybe it's the mole.
Damn mole, always going and trying to make me look like George Hamilton. I'm going to have it removed.
OK, I can't find a great pic to describe my story #2 of the mole saga. But I think I will describe it well enough. We'll see. For now, here is a pic of my face if you need a reference during the story.
When I was in middle school I might not have been the nicest person. I can't really remember, but I say that because I must have hurt this boy's feelings. We were in language arts class and in the 7th grade and I remember sitting there and all of the sudden he, Brett, called me "Buddha". I, of course, think Brett is talking about the big fat happy Buddha and I really can't figure out where it came from. Then he starts pointing to his forehead saying "Buddha, Buddha, Buddha" over and over and over again. Then he changes up his hand position and has each of his hands are on the side of his head and he's now SINGING "Buddha, Buddha.....". Then he breaks out in dance and is still calling me Buddha. I told him he was an idiot and he stopped shortly after.
It took me quite a bit of time to figure out what was going on...... at least 10 minutes. As I gazed over into my reflection in the window I knew why his hands were on the side of his head. I was wearing my hair in pigtails, but the Buddha thing was still puzzling. I looked at myself just a bit closer and saw I had 2 moles in the middle of my forehead. I never thought much about those particular moles. Hmmmmm, maybe I have a permanent Bindi, or maybe that kid is a schmuck and I should've smacked him when I had the chance.
The thing is, I didn't feel bad about myself or think much about the way I looked that made the boy tease me. I have never gotten the image of this boy dancing and singing and chanting with his hands on the side of his head. I think if he knew how dumb he looked he probably would take it back, because I will never forget that! I am sure he has long forgotten my moles and pigtails.
By the way Brett, Buddha would never make fun of someone. If I believed in Karma I would say you are in for some good teasing right about now.
I don't know how many of you have noticed. I am never sure how it looks to other people or if people even pay attention. I have something on my face. Well, a few things on my face. I have many moles, many many moles. ("MANY, MANY POGS!!!", a different story for a different time. Wait, but do you guys remember pogs? I loved pogs. Ok, I digress.)
See Exhibit A:
Why, hello mole! Nice of you to show up! I was just talking about you.
I don't know how many people experience talk about their moles but I have a few memories surrounding them. So, odd or not, I will share them with you now.
(Side note worth mentioning. My friends and I used to count all visible moles in class when we were bored, one time we got up to 50 or so.)
Memory #1 "Bus Mole" (See... I'm creative with my titles, because this one happened on a bus.)
In elementary school I would ride the bus to and from school every day. When I was in the 5th grade I finally got to sit in the back of the bus. That's something you had to wait for on our bus, like a privilege meant for the older kids. Less supervision and more goofing off happened at the back of the bus, so it was obviously the best place to be.
I went to a public school and I don't know if it's any different than private school, but all the boys started talking about kissing when they were around 10 or so. (Sorry to all of you mothers of boys around 10. It happens, your boy talks about kissing or at least thinks about it. Sorry if I burst some bubbles there.) KISSING!!! Yuck! I was a tomboy and kissing did not cross my mind... well rarely crossed my mind. But there was this boy on my bus who was obsessed with kissing. He would make smoochie sounds at me and ask to make out and I would cringe at the thought.
I would say "I would never kiss you. That's like totally gross."
I REALLY did not want to kiss this boy, EVER!
One day as I was getting off the bus I felt a tug on my shoulders from behind me. I didn't turn around, because I knew it was Mr. Kissy-Face. I tried to keep walking but he wouldn't let go of my shoulders. I finally pulled away from him and turned around to give him a nasty look and he jumped up and kissed me. Oh, my heart sank as he quickly popped up into my face and took a quick peck. Wait, did he just.... Yes, he missed. I ran off the bus as all the boys around him were laughing and I remember sprinting down the stairs and onto the pavement with the boy behind me, Mr. Kissy-Face, screaming "Yeah, I kissed her mole!!" Uhhhhhh... weird.... does it count as a first kiss if it was on the mole? I'm not sure, but that was one of the most horrifying experiences I had on any bus ride, EVER!
After that story I need some time to process. Grieve my mole virginity. I have an even more traumatizing one for tomorrow. Come back for Mole Saga #2 tomorrow, with an even more creative name. "Mole Buddha". Are you curious?
