Hazing Meri Sugarman

FromHazing Meri Sugarman April 15Dear Diary: I had a nightmare last night. It was after midnight in Marietta, Ohio, my hometown, and it felt like I was much younger than I really am -- maybe twelve or thirteen. Walking through the town square, I noticed there was a long line of women waiting to get inside The Big Bang, a local male strip joint (you know, the type of place where women go for birthday celebrations or bachelorette parties and things), and I really wanted to go in, but not for any dirty reason. I mean, I've never had a boyfriend before, even though I'm close to graduating high school, and yet I felt strangely compelled to go inside. So I snuck in. I scurried through the back alley, found an open window, pushed myself through, and landed with a painful thud on the ladies' room floor. It was strange. None of the women there seemed to notice me. I was invisible. Still, I held my head low, and when I stepped into the club, I was assaulted with loud music and a crush of jostling women (and a lot of really handsome cocktail waiters, too) and still no one noticed me. What was I doing here? All the women were beautiful. All the men were beautiful. And me? Okay, I'll be honest. I'm fully aware of the mirror and its cruel reflection of my pudgy face, my bulbous nose, and my upper lip, for which there is only one word: wax. In elementary school I was cast as Nana, the dog inPeter Pan. And Miss Tucci, the drama teacher, didn't think I needed all that much makeup when she cast me as the Wicked Witch inThe Wizard of Oz. Hardy har. I know, poor me. Play the tiny violin. I try not to get down about things like that. I try to be optimistic. I try to believe in the goodness of virtually everyone around me, even if they're making fun of me. It doesn't make the teasing any easier, or make me feel less ugly, or any less of a loser, but it gets me through the day. But back to my dream. Suddenly the music seemed louder, much louder, the lights brighter, and ponying onto the stage was a stripper in a modified cowboy outfit with a ten-gallon hat that cast a long shadow over his face. Well, I may not be the prettiest girl around, but I have a pulse. This guy was really cute. He started dancing and gyrating and taking off practically all of his clothes, until he was wearing nothing but a jock strap, cowboy boots, and that big ten-gallon hat. By this time I was getting nervous, not because of the guy dancing, but because everyone in the club started melting away, literally, till there was no one left but me and the stripper. Then the music stopped cold. The stripper lit a big, fat cigar, pointed his finger directly at me, and whipped off his hat. My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe it. The stripper was my dad! Then I woke up and there was Dad coming right at me, along with Mom and my sister, Lisa, all of them singing "Happy Birthday." I gasped and yanked the covers up, and tumbling to the floor was my dog-eared copy ofCome Slowly, My Darling,with a really handsome matador embracing a peasant girl on the cover. "Eeeow," chuckled Lisa. "Cindy's reading dirty books again." Mom shushed her, but you could tell she was holding back a laugh too. See, Lisa may be three years younger than me, but she's very pretty (just like Mom). I'll be blunt about Mom. I'm a disappointment to her. I was her firstborn -- and look how I turned out. In a way, I'm glad Lisa's around. The less attention I get, the better. My dad's another story. He's so nice to me. Once he even took me shopping for my sixteenth birthday in Parkersburg, West Virginia (that's the closest big town nearby), and bought me a genuine gold necklace. It sparkles. And, yes, he's handsome, I admit it. He treats me like a real person, too. Not that he shouldn't -- he is my dad, after all -- but in my life, that's kind of a novelty. He also gave me the sweetest gift fApostolina, M. is the author of 'Hazing Meri Sugarman ', published 2005 under ISBN 9781416906100 and ISBN 141690610X.