Imagine in the 60’s teenagers got kicked out in high school for long hair and smoking. Perhaps there was nothing more to worry about yet. Rules were not something I worried about, just my crooked buck teeth, a frail stature and pale skin, while being one of the tallest girls in my school I had no breasts that were visible. Kids can be cruel in the preteen years, yet in high school they stopped cajoling me about my flat chest. I do remember they said pointing at my chest “there's a fungus amongst us”. I carried it with me, however in my Pollyanna spirit fueled my need to be different. Somehow in my crazed hormonal state it did stimulate a growth spurt, I grew 3 inches between the age of 16 and 18. Knowing my motives collecting themselves in my body was an excuse to complain in order to figure out any of what was going on. Internally spinning having an 18 year old body I was seeing what others thought in order to form my own opinions.
My mother was far too concerned with her own appearance to support me with mine. Being 18 years older in my senior year, not emotionally. I chose to be eccentric because I could not fit in with what the latest trends were so I was going to be an extension of my love for the complete Isle of Britain. I wanted to be different and I was deaf in my external and internal circumstances. Still I went into the bathroom and talked to whoever was there to see if I was pale or if my hair looked alright.
Ironing my hair and slapping a green sticky gel on my bangs somehow tamed my curly hair. Yes, another complaint was that my hair was far too wild and curly. If it rained, up flip the bangs regardless of the gel. I can still feel the slime on my fingers somehow.
The department store was my savior for an escape and then there was Bill the long haired boy who came from the other school after doing something bad. He took an interest in me. I was shy and as I look back on the adventures of he and I it was at an early stage and perhaps for a long time his manipulation was easily brought forward. I followed him around like an obedient puppy. I carried his books because he broke his leg and we got out of class early. He also was a musician and I got to go to the teenage nightclub he played at. Don’t really know how I got to go out at night given my mothers sternness, I did tenacity on my part and her exhaustion and perhaps was menopausal having me at 40. Poor women. Then there were my visits to the radio station.
