You're Pretty Much My Most Favorite Of All Time In The History Of Ever.

When LEH2 and I married, we decided getting matching tattoos would be a good idea.  It was, at the time.  Thank heavens I didn’t decide to do something REALLY stupid and get his name.  Although, there is a fairly large part of me that wishes HE had gotten MY name, so that he would have to look at it every day of his life and be reminded of what a douche he is.  Or be reminded of what a bitch I was.  Either is fine with me.  Either makes his life a little less comfortable.

Moving on.

So I’d like to get the tattoo that I have “redone”.  I’ve been toying with the idea of a new tattoo lately, even though I’m nowhere near having the finances to do it.  Initially, I wanted a very large tattoo that would cover at least half of my back and some of my shoulder.  Employers are lots more lenient these days on the appearance of ink in the workplace.  Now, I’m thinking that I’d like to just cover up the tattoo that I currently have on my shoulder and make it unrecognizable from what it is right now.  Expand on the work that’s already there sort of thing. 

It’s an idea.

What I really wanted to tell you is a story from my past.  All the way back to the sixth grade.

You remember your sixth grade year.  It’s quite possibly one of the worst years of life for any human being alive for various reasons.  If you’re a girl and you haven’t started your period, you are convinced that something is wrong with you.  If you HAVE started your period, well then, you’ve started your period and you’re realizing pretty quickly that life is going straight to the shitter once a month for the rest of your life.  Boys are cute, boys are smelly, and they have this weird thing going on with their voices. You want a boyfriend, but you’re still too afraid of being made fun of, so you stick to writing about them in your diary and wondering how big your breasts are going to get.

If you’re a boy, you’re in the beginning stages of growing a tropical rainforest in your crotch and you’re lucky if you get a couple of whiskers on your chin. Noticing girls is becoming a trend, but you don’t want anyone to know that you still like watching Power Rangers when no one else is home and that you sleep with a teddy bear at night because the werewolf scene in Harry Potter kinda made you nervous.

(sidenote: NEVER google the words "sissy boy" with the filter turned off)

Sixth grade sucks.

When I was in the sixth grade, I had a friend that we’ll call…Amy.  (Just to be clear, my hetero life mate and I didn’t hook up till high school. She is not Amy. Thank God.)  Amy and I were tight.  We spent the night at each others house.  I learned to shave my legs at her house, she learned to put on her makeup at mine.  We were girls.  In the sixth grade.  It’s what we did.

One day, Amy brought an outsider into our circle of two, making it a circle of three.  The outsider, we will call Brenda.  Brenda was nice enough.  She came from somewhat of a broken home, where Amy and I did not.  There was a little bit of fascination there because of this.  Slowly, I noticed that Amy and Brenda were spending more time with each other and less with me included.  Like all little girls, I tried to ignore it.  Surely, I wasn’t being pushed out of the circle…

Then the prank calls started.  The two of them would prank call me at home after school.

They’d sit in class at their desks side by side and write nasty notes about me and giggle and whisper and point.  One particular afternoon, my mental stability crumbled and I burst into tears in the middle of science class.  My teacher pulled me into the hallway and I explained what was going on.

I thought she was going to blow a gasket.  She gave both girls the third degree and sent me to the office to call my mom to pick me up.  I felt slightly better, knowing that there were some repercussions for Amy and Brenda, but it was too late.  I’d never have a friendship with either of them again.  I knew this.  I was depressed.

That afternoon, dad came home from work and asked me to do something.  I don’t remember what it was, only because it never got done. 

Dad: “Kate, I need you to do this.”

Me: “Okay…” (mope mope sad face sad face sad face mope mope mope)

Dad: “And Kate, seriously.  Stop walking around here like you just lost your best friend.”

Me: “…” (overly dramatic burst into tears run screaming into the bedroom)

Mom: “Um…she DID lose her best friend today.  Good job.”

Eh, I’m over it.  Interestingly enough, it has come to my attention that “Brenda” is on facebook.  I’m debating on whether or not to send her a friend request.  Do I want to be her friend, or do I secretly want to stalk her and hope that I find evidence that her life has been shit for the last 20 years? Granted, my life hasn’t been perfect, but one does feel some justification when a bully from the past gets something that they deserve.

Would you accept a friend request from someone that you had been mean to in school?  Would you send a friend request to someone that was mean to you?

I love my hetero life mate.  I love that no matter how many other people come and go from each of our lives, she will always be my hetero life mate.  We will always have each other.  She's my person.