I’m never accused of being sensitive. You can tease the bejesus out of me and not only will all of my feathers remain unruffled, I’ll be dishing it right back at you.
My sister and I were the only two girls out of 11 cousins on one side of the family and we encountered relentless teasing, rough housing and endless boys against girls games (is nine against two ever fair? And furthermore, we could NEVER make good machine gun sounds. This is a trait that males are born with. Seriously.). I learned very early on how to stand my ground, play hard and tried not to cry (or “the boys will know it’s getting to you and that’s what they want,” true words of wisdom from Mom).
So if I had to play G.I. Joe with my boy cousins, you bet your ass they played Barbie when visiting my house. Being oh-so-sweet (and such a little shit), I even gifted my cousin D a Ken doll one year at Christmas (his best received present ever). And of course, I wanted to do anything and everything my cousins did. I was a little bedazzled dude with attitude (which has bled into my adulthood).
You can imagine my dismay one Christmas when all of my cousins got football helmets of their favorite teams. I jealously scowled on as they posed for a picture (how could a photo be snapped without my presence?! I wanted – rather needed a helmet! How dare Santa leave me out!).
But what happened next was a true Christmas miracle. My cousin D didn’t like his helmet (and became an actual bawl baby) because it was too tight on his head.
Tears of tightness
Oh the horrors for him but sheer holiday delight for yours truly. All too happy to take a helmet from a hysterical, big headed boy.
Dry eyed and helmet headed. Eat your crying heart out, boys.
Who needs Barbie when I look so good in a football helmet – feathers intact?