By eleventh grade my body had been manipulated with hormones and artificial food substitutes to construct a body filled to some pharmaceutical mean. What was a 17 year old female body to look like on the average. Never did I know that the medical community was going to judge me by an average, I would never match. It was also the 60’s and the Beatles were beginning to Rock the world with music unlike before. Screaming girls and The Dick Clark Bandstand, learning all the variations of dances. I would begin my practice. The rock groups would be a great distraction and interruption of how I proceeded. I wish it could be said; there were no interruptions. My mother’s standards began to slip. She was ill equipped to deal with a tenacious teenager and her strictness was wearing down. I was 17 and she was 57. How could she be a match? She certainly tried.
School became secondary and being at home watching television was what I managed. I would write my excuses and she would sign them. If the school knew they overlooked it or my mother went to bat for the poor widow’s daughter.
Then the 11th grade teachers found me out. A friend of my older brother, then 30 would come and be a teacher's aid, as he studied to be a teacher. This was to be his practice and he was good friend's with my brother. I began to be motivated.
I was called into the Principal's office. Surely I had been found out for taking my weekly escape as a skip to my dance practice. Dick Clark, and whatever I could find on TV. They told me in the office I had taken IQ test and I was smarter than I responded in my schooling. Was this the influence of my brother's friend, who I wanted to impress: Or were the hormones finally reaching my brain cells. Still dissatisfied with something I didn’t understand. I would go to the girls bathroom and pinch my cheeks, before I went to hang out after school with my brother's friend. It was my warped take on pretend rouge. Another male influence in a new search.
