show me yours

I’m fully convinced that there are parts of your personality that develop in middle school that never fully die. For instance, I was the only girl in my fourth grade class—things that happen at Christian schools—and all the boys in the class made up this club called the Baby Club and you had to be popular to get in it. Be popular, and talk like a baby. Like an actual goo-goo-ga-ga baby.

I can’t even.

My BFF Jac and I were the only people not allowed in the club—because he was fat (it’s ok, he’s skinny and handsome now) and I was a girl. We were both pretty desperate to be in the club so he, at the age of 11 or whatever you are in fourth grade, straight up manipulated the leaders of the club into letting him in the club by convincing them that they needed him to keep track of the comings and goings of the members of the club. Today he works in politics and runs campaigns. Shocking, right. I used a different approach—I went to the teacher and complained that the boys wouldn’t let me in the club because I was a girl and that wasn’t fair. Soon after it was mandated that girls (me) had to be allowed to join the club or the school administration would dismantle the entire Baby Club operation. And today, I’m the feminist who gets in fights with idiots men people over things they write about women in their facebook statuses.

Later in middle school, despite our best efforts, Jac and I were still losers and were dubbed the messengers of the class—constantly being sent back and forth from the popular girls table to the popular boys table carrying messages of who liked who and whatever else. One thing it taught us early on was that knowledge is power—and like the best kind of power, the kind of power that says “You can say whatever you want about me, but just remember that I know what happened behind the swing set.” Maybe it was the power that I craved more than the knowledge. Not sure, either way, I am one of the nosiest people you’ll ever meet. It’s kind of a what came first the chicken or the egg thing—was I nosy before I became the middle school messenger or am I nosy as a result?

Naturally when people move into new spaces I get upset when pictures aren’t splattered all over the internet immediately. Like WHERE do you LIVE? WHO are YOU? WHY don’t I know more about YOU? So in the spirit of a fair exchange of information, here’s our new space (after 5 days of moving in (so, like, not even close to finished)): 

Picture3

Picture2 Picture6 Picture4 Picture5 Ok, I showed you mine, now show me yours.  And I promise to not use it against you.

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