And I was old enough to walk, albeit with a wobble*, and could piece verbs together with objects. But, I also had a problem with understanding tone and that there was a time and a place for raising the stakes on a situation. I just hadn't quite mastered the art of reacting appropriately to varying degrees of distress.
Coincidentally, my bedroom shared a wall with the bathroom. But, with those wobbly toddler-old legs, I couldn't be trusted to get there in time. And I had... a history... of being slow on the potty-training-train, so I was sensitive to disappointing my parents (again) in this particular area.
Luckily, both of my parents were fully distracted in conversation.
Ipso-facto, I could get away with peeing and they wouldn't know right away...if I was sneaky about it.
However, I was SO proud that I had learned the Always Use the Toilet rule (finally), and I wanted to share this moment with them.
But, I also didn't want them to know that, even after remembering this rule, I was still choosing to not follow it.
So. I came up with a brilliant idea.
And you can guess what they then did.
They failed at following my brilliant idea.
...So, Yelling at People, "Don't Look at Me!" Gets You the Opposite Result
When you don't want people to look at you, it's generally understood you DON'T call attention to yourself by yelling at the very people you want to hide from. This concept was new to me at the time of twoish.
And sadly, I have to report, I still haven't quite learned that lesson. And Facebook just enables this.
I posted this slightly-crazed plea the other day, thinking it was totally normal to use a social media networking sight to state my gender-queer issues and sensitive sense of self-identity.
To be fair, it was in part because I had received lots of messages/random prods from lots of random people about photos that had started to pop up on multiple peoples' Facebook accounts of a show I'm doing. In that sense, I was then targeting the same forum that had begun the unwanted attention.
Even so, right after posting this, I realized my fateful, familiar flaw: that there would be a slew of questions/curious and confused comments on what exactly I was talking about in the first place.
Luckily, I know a lot of rad people who just took the high road of not asking what it was I was wearing in the first place. And hey friends: thanks for taking the high road! Because I failed at doing so.
And in the classic American-guilt sense, I was suddenly aware of the fact that by the very act of asking the masses something, I got a massive response. Even if the request was, "Don't talk to me about this."
Apparently, I still need to work on my methods of communication. Or, just buildinganeffingbridgeandgettingoverit.
However, the discussion on projected gender identity, as it is obviously very important to me, whether or not I want to admit it, I will discuss in an alternate post, soon to come up, that will tie in both a historical queer figure AND come full circle with my own weird issues on clothing.
But, in the meantime, just remember:
Sometimes you get exactly what you ask for.
*What's the adverb of "wobble" ? Wobblingly. That's right. Now you know why I didn't use it.