Confession of the Week: Shot Through the Heart

I know everybody has morning rituals: get up, make your bed, go to the bathroom, kick your kids, whatever. I must confess I have a task that might be a bit unusual but benefits the world. Every morning I de-booger. “Okay, so what?” you’re thinking. Well, it’s not that cursory glance in the mirror kind of act that I assume most socialized adults perform. It is a designated time to get rid of boogies akin to the habitual nature of brushing my teeth. Now mother, do not go blaming this on the nose ring. Yes, it does cause booger blockage but I can pinpoint exactly when this began and it was long, long ago. (T.A. – Do not let anyone tell you that a nostril piercing just requires you to be extra careful when blowing your nose. It collects nostril matter and needs to be cleaned. It isn’t easy or pleasant or anticipated. Especially the hoop. Can you imagine if it rotated around and had extra bits on display? Definitely NOT cool.) This schnoz ritual is a result of PTSD from Jr. High. Seventh grade to be exact.

I was innnn looooove with Shane. He had a rad mullet and the coolest acid wash jeans and in a very small Alaskan town, there is just not a lot to choose from. Shane was taken. But that didn’t stop me from throwing myself at him at every opportunity. Now remember that one friend? The one we all had. She’s like Velma from Scooby Doo – smart, making too may observations, and lacking a bit in any sort of normal social cues. I liked Velma. We hung out. We were the only two who found academics worth our attention. I don’t know if Velma was aware of my crush on Shane. She wasn’t into the girly crushing, she had better hobbies. One particular Spring day the three of us took a walk up by the ski lodge. (This is where you picture me in all of my tween glory with the side pony-tail and stirrup pants.) During one of my animated stories I stood right in front of Shane, my trans am loving man, and was abruptly interrupted by Velma making this remark, “Angry Baker, you have a huge booger hanging out of your nose!” What the what?! No subtle pulling me to the side and whispering. No standing outside of his peripheral vision and gesturing. Was she trying to kill me? In that moment, I was sure my life was over. I quickly stepped to the side and tried to discreetly and nonchalantly remove the offense. Completely deflated and humiliated – I cannot remember what happened after that. That experience alone should have been enough to create a lifetime habit of nose watching and grooming. But wait, there’s more….

3 weeks later, I was still innnnn loooovvve with Shane. We were all on the track team. And as everybody knows, the real excitement of track and field events is the traveling around to and from on the buses. Three bench seats in the back of the bus. Velma is in the last seat, Shane is in the middle, and I am in front of Shane; I am turned around, perched on my knees and Velma is leaning forward as we’re all chatting. I say chatting which is only true for Velma; I’m flirting shamelessly. I will spare you and my typing fingers the details. It happened. Again. With the same bluntness and uncouth, Velma ratted out my booger. Within a month I had been called out as booger girl twice in front of Shane. What are the odds? Really people, what are the odds?!

And that my friends is why I, with the all of the OCD diligence I possess, de-booger. Every day.

Shane, if you’re out there – I have been booger free for 20 years now. I hope you got your trans am. And I can’t listen to Bon Jovi without thinking of you and your rad mullet.