Doc Marten Christmas

Remember when Doc Martens where the rage? Oh those yellow thread trimmed shoes were meant to be mine. I didn’t care what the color, but they had to have the yellow threads. The price tag, unfortunately, wasn’t meant for me.  But I still longed for a pair in my closet.  As most teenage girls do I began asking, then begging, then pleading and threatening suicide.  Still no Doc Martens magically appeared from my “horrible” parents.  Seriously can you believe how unfair they were!

One wonderful Christmas; Jessica and I had identical shaped boxes, beautifully wrapped and sitting beneath the tree begging to be opened.  My parents were giddy with excitement and handed us our gifts to open at the same time.  I was excited and glanced at my parents who were sitting shoulder to shoulder their hands clasped in a loving embrace.  Their eyes were tired, but their faces were glowing in the joy of Christmas giving.

Jessica and I eagerly tore open our gifts. We see apple boxes that had been written on with a black sharpie  exclaiming “Doc Martens”. I am not sure what Jessica’s face was reflecting at this moment but I was pissed!  They were totally making fun of us! I open my box and a pair of black men’s dress shoes sits inside.  My dad is looking proud and please as punch and my mom is gently wiping the tears off her cheeks.  Then I started yelling “Is this a joke?! Why did you give me Randy’s dress shoes? Or are these Jared’s? Why? You guys are like sooo mean!” My moms hand stops wiping mid tear drip, oh those tears of making her girls dreams come true. My dads face is contorted in a weird pained shape, “Sharee those are Doc Martens! I bought those for you guys at the Nordstrom Rack, they cost $100!” My dad tells me in his most appalled voice. I look at them again, yes they clearly state in the inner sole that they are Doc Martens. But, they still are men’s dress shoes, of this I am sure! And they don’t even have the “Doc Marten” yellow threads around the bottom. “Dad they are men’s shoes! Seriously, mens!! Mens!” I still can’t help but think it’s a joke.  “No Sharee I asked and they said they are girls, from the girl section.”  My dad replies looking crushed. So this is for real, he thinks he has done a good thing.  I cannot remember what Jessica has said during this entire exchange, but she has probably tossed hers back into the box and forgotten them. 

I try and work up a bit of enthusiasm.  Maybe I could like them?  Maybe? I am starting to feel the overwhelming feeling of sorrow.  Sorrow of hurting my Dads feelings.  Sorrow that he wasted money on men’s shoes instead of buying the real ones I always had wanted. So I smile and try and act not so bratty.  I even wear them from time to time.

 Until one time my high school boyfriend asks me why I wear men’s dress shoes.  I told him why and that I worn them out of guilt for the last 2 years.  But after that day I never wore them again.

It was really my Dads fault.

First day of sixth grade

I was a very obedient child.  My mom said jump and I would politely ask how high.  I didn't pick out my own clothes, she did and everything was just so cute! This is very evident from the home video we watched recently of my first day of sixth grade.  There I am all nervous looking, puffy eyed from lack of sleep and choking down a bowl of fruity puffs.  My moms videoing each of my siblings and I about our feelings of it being the first day of school.  Nick looks cool, he has tried hard to not look as though he tried hard and rambles off all kinds of things; such as "don't video me", "wait video this", "did you get that", "I hope not," "the girls all love me already", "see how big my biceps are? Like 9 inches" all the while using his best imitation of Pee Wee Hermans voice. 
Then there is Randy wearing his batman t-shirt excited for his Jr. High experience. This may or may not have been the year that he types in swear words on the spell check and gets caught.  My parents also gets a note about him farting to much in school and being a distraction.
  Fourth grade Jessica, with her high pitched voice, is hoping that she doesn't get Mrs. Stecklein.  Who she does end up getting and will eventually receive a report card from Mrs. Stecklein claiming Jessica has diarrhea of the mouth. 
Cute little Alicia, it is her first day of kindergarten, she is excited and wearing a cute skirt.  This year she will be tickled by her teacher, when asked where (my mom was sure everyone out there was a pervert) she responds saying "in the doorway".  She also falls asleep on the short bus on the way home from school one day, my parents were worried bus driver may have been a pervert too. Luckily she turns out to be perfectly fine.
Ahh now then there is me.  Wearing hot pink elastic waist band shorts, with a forest green top that ties around the waist and has large hot pink flowers.  My mom has braid my hair the night before and now its wavy with a matching bow.  I look just so cute!  Which would be fine if I was 2!  Even Alicias outfit is a tad bit cooler than mine.  That day at school a fifth grade girl or who I will lovingly refer to as "the whore" asks me why am I dressed like a little kid.  I was pretty much crushed.  I had left feeling so great about myself, hello my mom told me I looked so cute!  I just wanted to be cool, certainly not cute!  The outfit stayed crumpled and hidden in a closet for the rest of mysixth grade life!  There was no way I could wear wear it again without remembering the feeling of complete humilition.  This was also the year my mom bought me a straw hat that had a bow around it and a flowery dress that I wore for sixth grade graduation.  I wore it so I didn't hurt my moms feelings.  But I looked like I was from the secret garden. The only boy that paid attention to me that year wore a fanny pack. 

It was my moms fault.