Goldilocks! When I was in grade school I was called Goldilocks. Sure the nickname bugged me since I was a boy and not a girl. I had huge blond curly hair so I guess I deserved it. By the time I got to high school I despised my curls something fierce.
By fierce I mean that I would actually cut the little ringlets out of my hair each morning before high school, depositing them in a black plastic trash can. Most normal people probably would have either tried to brush them out or received a proper haircut. But no, not me. After I washed all the chlorine off my body, I went to my room, grabbed my mom’s yellow handled yarn shears and went to town. If a curl was sticking up, I chopped it off — repeat this every morning. I justified it by saying it was important to have short hair while swimming. Thus I wouldn’t have to wear a condom-like contraption on my head except for swim meets.
Needless to say this patchy haircut wasn’t all that sexy. Which led to exactly zero dates in high school. Now was it the bad hair, low self-esteem, bad breath, or constant smell of chlorine that repelled the girls? Tough to tell. Neither of those on their own are all that sexy. I’m going to guess it was the self-esteem thing though.
My high school years were rough. My parents divorced as I started my sophomore year. Tragically one of my brother’s died later that year. Any confidence I may have had was sucked out of me. I bottled it all up until my college years. Thus giving birth to the animal known as Monkey Boy.
Other embarrassing grade school stuff: I was known as Mr. Perfect Attendance as I never missed a day of school from kindergarten through sixth grade. (note: I didn’t miss my first day of school until 10th grade and that was the only one I missed). I won the spelling contest in my second grade class. For this spelling achievement I was given a box of Almond Roca. Unfortunately I lost in the school tournament when I misspelled the word exercise. I spelled it EXCERISE.
Then there was the time I ran for elementary school vice president in sixth grade. I thought I had it in the bag since I was running against a fifth grader. Turns out I lost by a very narrow margin. To make matters worse apparently the girl I lost to had a huge crush on me. She failed to mention this until I was well into my twenties when her mom told my mom. Wicked. Finally, we invented this crazy playground game called The Animal. Basically it was this modified game of tag. You weren’t actually captured, or "out", until your coat was completely removed. A simple tag on the back wasn’t enough to be considered caught. I usually made animal noises as my attackers closed in on me.
TODAY’S RULED OUT BABY NAMES: Celsius, Uday, Kelvin, Barbie, Birch, and Imelda.