Gross On Purpose

Sometimes I'm gross on purpose. I was told to “do things right the first time and I wouldn’t have to do them again.” So now, I do them wrong the first time and then walk the fuck away.

They both made fun of my smile. "girls, get together" and I knew it was coming. Both of them mocking me and actually acting out how my smile looked. Telling me that I don't put my teeth together correctly. They'd giggle together, providing an imitation…acting as a mirror and reflecting just how incompetent I was, even in moments of joy.

Edele would push me up against the bathroom wall and pick at my face, manically pushing into my nose and soul as she reminded me of how disgusting I was.

There was a moment at the dinner table. In our home, food was never a problem,
but the words spoken through them made everything tasteless.

On this particular evening, my family was sitting around the table and a discussion came up about what my AOL screen name should be. Remember screen names? Everyone had "babycutiexoxo" or "Iloveyou12"... they came up with one for me. "Lazygal42" 

For context, throughout my years as an adolescent, there were themes that presented themselves regularly. One could say daily. Among them being a particular set of adjectives that were glued to me at a very young age and had sunken into my skin not too long after. Stupid, Liar, and Lazy. In any event, yes, ‘Lazygal42’ would be my screen name. They laughed about it. I laughed along. 

Laughed.

I was laughed at a lot.

I can't put on paper enough how many times I was called stupid. How many times it was alluded to. How it was forced onto me, into me. Lazy…. Liar... I was always lying, apparently.

I was a fucking child.

Admittedly, during those years, I had problems. One of them being an issue that I faced. I simply didn’t “see things”.  I’ll explain…when told to clean my room, the anxiety was insurmountable. Not because I didn't want to do it, but rather because I wasn't good at it. I would miss something. I simply wouldn’t see it. A sock in the corner or a space left unkempt. For the sake of this anxiety, I would put things in closets and under my bed. Not because I was lazy or stupid, but because I was scared and a fucking child. I had so much anxiety. The kind that forces you to fuck up. The kind of anxiety that is confused with, well, laziness.

I was shamed for not wrapping my pads in enough toilet paper. Shamed loudly and forced to pick them up out of the garbage, unravel them and to "do it right the first time..." I use tampons now.

And in the times where the noise was no longer cutting and the corners of the walls were not riddled with my apologies, there was silence. 

She ignored me a lot. Silently walking through our little apartment as I stood in front of her begging to be seen. acknowledged. Loved. 
Fuck it… begged to be anything at all. 

I was gross back then. For all of the reasons that were described above and linked with tiny little examples to provide context. The theme within those examples, if you haven’t noticed, is that none of them were intentional. I tried but nonetheless, i was gross. Purely accidentally gross.

I’m an adult now. Those times are long behind me and so now sometimes
I'm gross on purpose.
Over the weekend, sometimes I don't shower.
There are piles of clothes at times. Piles of clean clothes that I pick from every morning to get dressed for work.

Because fuck you, ya know?

At times, I leave dishes in the sink. 
She was allergic to animals... my cat's hair makes me smile because it reminds me how comfy he is and how much of a mess it makes. 
She would call me a slut.
Now I am one. Proudly. 
My body is adored, stared at, shown, and played with… when i want it to be. 

And when i would sing, i would be screamed over to mock the noise. 
So now i sing loudly. Anywhere i fucking want to. And to be frank, i’m quite good. 
Sometimes I am gross on purpose.
I leave shoes by the doorway
Unopened mail sits for weeks
I love my hair. It's not greasy or disgusting. It's beautiful. I wash it when i wash it

Being abused for all that I was doing wrong,
I rarely had a clue
Now i do it all wrong whenever i want to and in the ‘wrongest’ of ways. 

Because fuck you, ya know?

it wasn't all bad. no.
and
i'm realizing with time, and true loving connections, that my childhood wasn't normal and It wasn't supposed to be like that.
So yes, now. Every once in a while,
I’m gross on purpose.
I will wear the same shirt twice on weekends,
not clean the microwave,
I'll throw away Tupperware if I don't want to wash it,

and I, my dear friends…
will smile bright showing all of the teeth that I possibly can. 

Because, fuck you... ya know?