Sad Adolescent Chicken Stories

When I was 8 a girl on the playground called me “nigger lips”.  I was sad about that.

Silver Lining:  Big boys like big lips.  Who knew?

When I was 9 I stole a pretty, polished rock from a school display and my mother, who taught in my school, and totally knew I did not “find it on the way home underneath a fern on the side of the driveway, where there was also, hiding, a cute little baby rabbit that I left there because I know it is wrong to take baby animals away from their moms” made me take it back and issue a formal apology. That made me embarrassed and sad.

Silver Lining:  When I was 10 I stole a candy bar from Kenny’s store but I felt so guilty I put it back so I learned a valuable lesson (I did not issue an apology, however, so some of the lesson may have been lost)

When I was 12 my best (only) friend dropped me like a hot potato to become part of the popular crowd and I was all like, I have no friends, and that made me sad.

Silver Lining:  So my Mom said carry a book with you and you will always look like it doesn’t bother you that no one is sitting with you and now I am an excellent reader. (is that still sad?)

When I was 10 (I forgot one) I wanted to be an Indian more than anything.  A Boy Indian.  But I couldn’t be because I was an evil white child whose ancestors stole land and were mean to the awesome Indians. And that made me sad. 

Silver Lining:  But then I grew up and met a real Indian and she offered to adopt me into her tribe. She couldn’t make me a boy but that’s okay because now it is the 21rst century and if I want I can still act like a boy. Except the whole writing my name in pee in the snow thing.  I’ll have to give that fantasy up.

RELEVANT NOTE:  I’ve pretty much blocked out the year I was 13. 

When I was 14, I was in the school auditorium practicing my piece for some recital, and RC, a senior who also played the trumpet and who I very much admired said afterwards, surrounded by her posse, “Hey, you are very good”, and I said, “Thank you” and walked away but then turned back and said, “So are you”, which was really nice, I thought, but then K, one of her posse, said, “See, I told you she was weird”.  And K did not even know me.  And that made me sad.

Silver lining:  1.) RC said, “oh, I think she’s cute” (which is a mixed silver lining because cute is not what I wanted to be at 14 but still it was nice of her) and 2.) two years later I was leaving an outdoor concert with my (older, hot)  boyfriend in his really cool black convertible and we passed her and her friend walking down the dirt road. I heard her say to her friend, “Was that Chicken with TS?”  Oh yes it was, K.  Yes it was.  This story also has a moral for young Chicks:  If you are nice and polite (and have big lips, maybe) hot, older boys with convertibles will want to date you but if you are bitter and mean, you’ll wind up walking down a dirt road.  Ha! So there.

And that’s enough sad stories and meaningful reflection for one night.

Chicken, over and out.

  10 comments for “Sad Adolescent Chicken Stories

  1. March 12, 2010 at 4:42 pm



  2. March 12, 2010 at 4:57 pm

    Thanks Khelsaoe!


  3. March 12, 2010 at 9:15 pm

    Smashing reminiscences!!! Funny and sad at the same time.

    I burned my parents garage down at 15. The road had to be evacuated in case the car blew up. It was an accident! Honest!


  4. March 12, 2010 at 10:45 pm

    And now you are teaching driving classes. kind of ironic. My little brother drove our father's truck through the back of his brand new garage, which was built on a hill, so the back had a rather long drop. Dad came home from business trip to find big hole in the garage and the truck at 45 degree angle. Now there is a STOP sign there. Dad was bummed. LB does not give driving lessons.


  5. Anonymous
    March 12, 2010 at 11:39 pm

    It's nice to be able to see the silver lining in things…although at the time it might be more “bronze-ish” than silver. But you're pure gold Chicken! Keep blogging!



  6. March 13, 2010 at 4:26 am

    There is always a silver lining. It grows in proportion to the amount of silver in your hair, I guess. Thanks CB.


  7. Anonymous
    March 14, 2010 at 2:39 am

    You need a part B to your silver lining about being a good reader. Being well-read makes you more friends when you grow up.

    I always carried a book with me and learned to be invisible and enjoy it. Then, when I was 16, I finally got some curves, traded my glasses for contacts, grew out my hair. All of a sudden, people would walk up to me and be all, “Y r u sitting here all by yourself reading?”
    And I would be very confused, and tell them, “cause I like to read.” And then they would be confused and walk away.

    But once you are out of high school, people will ask what you are reading and why and if you like it. It's like magic, Poof! Friends!, no real social skills required. Yay!


  8. March 14, 2010 at 5:06 am

    Oh Anonymous, you are so right. Whenever I see someone reading a book I am always craning my neck to get a look at the title. And if I like the title, I'll always start a conversation. Great point!


  9. March 20, 2010 at 2:15 am

    Anonymous: so Ditto! Except that I never got rid of the glasses for contacts (not enough money for that in my family in the 80's) but I grew boobies and that seemed to make up for alot.


  10. March 20, 2010 at 3:40 am

    Here's to boobies! Can I get a “huzzah!” Boobies…they are not just for babies anymore!


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