Centralia Fireside Guard

Follow Us On:

Story Time: Cool

Posted on Tuesday, July 2, 2019 at 3:42 pm

By Lorry Myers

When I was a kid, I was a dork. My legs were too long and my hair was unruly and I had crooked teeth and skinned up knees. I was more tomboy than girlie girl and would much rather be in the yard than in the kitchen. I had a used bicycle with patched tires, and I played baseball with my brother’s glove while wearing my sister’s shoes. I didn’t have elaborate birthday parties or sleepovers, and I had to walk to school each day with a brown bag lunch in my hand.

Lorry Myers

Lorry Myers

There was nothing cool about me.

As a teenager, my dresses were hand me downs and still I shared shoes with my sisters. My hair wasn’t model sleek but curly and wild especially in humid weather. I wore glasses that seemed to slip down my nose and my father’s car I sometimes drove, had paint cans and drop cloths in the back seat. I didn’t buy school pictures to trade or offer sodas if you came for a visit. Boys never called and in the yearbook, I was certainly not anybody’s queen. I tried though. I tried to be someone else…someone hip…someone cool.

That wasn’t cool at all.

As a young adult, I wasn’t good at anything. I couldn’t cook or sew, didn’t sing or dance and I picked out orange shag carpet for my first home. I spent hours under a hair dryer trying to tame my frizzy hair and most of my furniture came from the second hand store. I carted my clothes to the laundromat, heated my house with a wood stove and slept with my window open to the sticky night air. I burned the biscuits, shrunk the curtains and converted clothes from white to pink on a regular basis.

Totally uncool.

When I had children, I couldn’t do anything right. After all, no one cooks breakfast for supper or wears last year’s tennis shoes and nobody, nobody, calls them tennis shoes anymore! My purse was generic, my hair out of control and why in the world would I want to wear jeans that didn’t have a label! None of my kid’s friends had to ride in a station wagon or had a curfew or were forced to sit around the table every night for supper. Why couldn’t these children of mine have a smart Mom or a fun Mom or a Mom that let them do whatever they wanted.

You know…someone cool.