this one time? at band camp?
seriously, i was at music camp and sitting in my assigned seat at Steve's table. Steve was an alpha male counselor who was in charge of the waterfront. in my mind's eye, he sort of resembled Don Johnson(not a compliment)(at least i don't mean it to be). at any rate, he bugged me with his smug self-assuredness.
one day at lunch, i got mad at him. i have no idea why. what could have possibly been so frustrating about lunch? about him? i don't know. but i was mad, that flushed cheeks frustration that's a good combination of anger and (probably) embarrasment.
and sitting there, twisting a paper napkin in my lap, staring at my empty plate as the bread basket passed by, i said, quite clearly (and quite softly), "fuck you."
i swear, i barely moved my lips. but he heard it. boy, he was pissed! and i was... mortified. but a little bit relieved.
i'm not gonna lie... it felt sorta good, my whispered rebellion. for a moment, i felt powerful and important, and, dare i say, just a teeny bit bad! however, i was immediately awash in guilt and angst. that sort of language was certainly not tolerated in my house. but i was away at summer camp, hundreds of miles away from my parents. they would never know! sitting here, typing these words 27 years later, i still feel like a 14 year old who got away with something.
and sitting here, 27 years later, i want to say it again. because you know what? i am angry and frustrated. and a little bit embarrassed. i want to yell "FUCK YOU" and find some relief.