balding angrily

Childhood Embarrassing Stories is a great game to play after a couple of martinis with friends.  They don’t have to be close friends; the game could make everyone a little closer.

In seventh grade, I hit the changing time before the other kids.  I liked it.  My body was a daily science experiment.  I would look down in the shower and there would be new things happening around the crotchal region.  First came the peach fuzz, and then it turned curly.  I never got really much taller than the other kids, but I got tall enough that they stopped wanting to fight me.

Seventh grade was also the first year that we took showers after P.E.  Mr. Stark explained that we had to soap up in the stinky places and show him that we got wet.  He checked our names off on a roll-call to get “shower credit” for the day.

–Let me stop your thoughts for a second.  This isn’t going to be an “I got a boner” story; that’s been covered by better story-tellers.–

While changing, I looked around at the guys’ kibbles and I was pretty proud of myself.  I didn’t parade it around, but I thought, “I’ve got hair; none of these other guys’ve got hair; I’m better.”  Trying to keep myself modestly covered in the front, I overheard two guys talking behind me.  They were talking about hair or lack thereof.  I don’t know why.  Strange things happen with thirteen year-old boys in a locker room.  For example, our showers were set up as one long room with four-headed shower poles in the center.  They would start running at one end, drop to their asses and slide across the porcelain.  They soaped up the floor to get a better slide.  Sometimes they hit the shower poles.  That was my favorite…when they hit.  I wanted to get my “shower credit” and get out, so I never did it.  Now I think I’d like to try it.  It looked like fun.

Back to the story: I was bending over getting something out of my locker and one of the guys behind me said something like, “At least I don’t have hair up the butt like Alex.”  I don’t remember if I had a reaction.  I spent most of my time in junior high trying to hide, so I probably pulled up my underwear and got the hell out.

I told that story to a group of friends that I was just getting to know.  We were at the stage in the friendship where we were still trying to decide if it’s worth it to keep hanging around each other.  Among them, I was the observationist.  I said a couple of things.  I asked a few questions.  I kept out of the way.  David, my friend, told me later that the story was the highlight of the evening, not so much because of the story but because it came from the quiet guy that sits in the corner.