I win, You lose

I think we can all think of one of those moments in our tender youth where we distinctly remember being wrongly accused of an offense and being punished without due process. Even more, some of us might  still be carrying around some trauma over said transgressions. Maybe you were a victim of the court of school yard public opinion, or you had a mama who was the supreme court justice of "don't-even-try-to-explain-yourself-because-you're-just-going-to-get-beat-harder-cus-I-don't-play-that" and you never got the chance to prove yourself innocent or atleast concede reasonable doubt. Maybe some of you have buried the image of that person that got you that epic beatdown or never ending punishment. You've finally gotten to the point where you can let old dogs lie and have moved on.

Not me. Just when you thought you might never get your day in court, I am hear to let you know that you will too have justice.

When I was in kindergarten in Ms. Gee's class (oh, yes I remember all of the details) there was a girl who was relatively bright but definitely mischievous. I can only imagine how her one-donut-too-many stature might have impacted her self esteem and therefore contributed to her need to include other's in her daily foolywang and what not. Now picture me. I was a good kid. I swear. Teacher's pet til the day I die. I NEVER got in trouble in school (until high school of course). But kindergarten? I was reading AND making macaroni pictures like a young Picasso. I had it made. If I could, recall this born and breed Oakland Banchie's name at this point I would. Im sure it would only serve to enhance this post. But I cant. So, I'm going to take a shot in the dark that her name started with a Lah, had an phonetically ill-concieved  middle section and ended with a predictable "Sha", "Kah", or an accent over the E.

So I'll make this brief: Me and Lah---Sha  were coloring bears. There was a boy bear and a girl bear on the sheet. The only thing discerning one bear's sex from the other was their gendered clothing. I was satisfied to know that the boy bear was a boy because he had on pants and vice versa.  Oh, but that wasn't good enough for Lah---Kah and being the naive child I was I went along with the plan. She drew one penis on her boy bear and I followed. With that hard red number 2 pencil I scribbled my "penis" for Mr. bear as well. (note: the penis was literally an oblong half circle- but in my mind it looked like what I suspected they might look like) Anyway, the beezo erased hers. And try as I might with that big a** pink rectangle eraser to remove my phallic symbol, it was engraved in that sheet of white paper like some ancient egyptian hieroglyphics in the side of a pyramid. I turned in the paper and prayed to God that  Ms. Gee wasn't using her glasses when she saw mine.

Ill be brief on what happened next: My grandma got called. I got picked up from school. I got the beatdown of life. I blacked out.

But I never forgot Lah---Accent-over-the-E and that damn bear penis.

Now to why I'm telling this ridiculous story. I ran into Lah---Sha the other day. And I can finally put behind me what  marred my kindergarten life all those years ago. I can, without a doubt, finally let it go. It was sort of like one of those moments where you have a new friend request from someone you went to elementary school on facebook. A big part of you is only befriending them just too see how terrible their life is now, especially if they ever did you wrong. And once its confirmed, I feel like it's God's payback. Based on the broken English in their status updates, the bathroom mirror pic's taken by their metropcs, with hella half empty Bath & Body works fragrances on the counter; I feel like I've won. Call me superficial. But kfdiaries, we're family now, and I'm just telling it like I know, you know, it really is.

So let me draw you a mental picture of the fallacy of life that is Lah---Sha presently: Terrible Tight curly 4/30 color half wig sewn onto some cornrows, Big A** wrist  and forearm tattoos of names worse than hers, mystery fabric outerwear, shoes with the sides worn down because now one-donut-too-many has turned into the whole damn box, Big A** wrist and forearm tats of NAMES worse than hers, nail shop lashes....

My Conclusion:

I win.