Monday, February 14, 2011

Childhood Trauma: Part VII - A pox on Valentine's

With the exception of last year’s special day with a few of my favorite single friends, 8+ bottles of champagne, and one prescription strength pain killer (from my wisdom teeth surgery), I have never had a great Valentine’s Day.

Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those posts that are all “I’m single and hate the world because the world is reminding me I’m alone and will probably be eaten by my pet cat when I choke on take-out Chinese food in my late 40s.”  That kind of noise is overdone and, not to mention, counterproductive. 

Newsflash! Lonely singles, is your solution to being single really bitterness?  That’s like masking the smell of a #2 by peeing on a burning tire.

Anyway, my string of unfortunate/mediocre Valentines began with bum bum BUUM… my parents

Like most people with kids like me, you need a break and/or ADHD medication.  So, before Kindergarten, I was part of a day care program called ‘Mother’s Day Out.’  I stress the term ‘day care’ because I don’t think it was preschool where any type of learning was involved.  Hence, my sub-genius status.  Thanks, mom and dad!

It was our annual Valentine’s Party.  It was my first non-church related party I was invited to.  Since it was day care, I’m 99% sure it was mandatory to invite everyone, but I felt special nonetheless.

I was excited because I was certain I would find the love of my life at said party or, at the very least, be able to eat my weight in heart-shaped sweets and chocolate. 

A few days before the party, I was stricken with chicken pox and my mother refused to let me attend the party because they were contagious.  The fact that I probably got them at this crack house day care or that I would be helping all the other kids not get it as adults which I read on the Internets (so it must be true) can cause permanent vision problems, shingles, and infertility.  

So, I was going to fall in love AND be a whatever the good kind of Typhoid Mary would be...  They probably would have renamed the day care after me. 

Alas!  All my dreams were crushed, and it has taken me 20 years to enjoy a Valentine's day.  I also hate chocolate as an adult and can now trace that little quirk back to this party.

On the plus side, I do have a chicken pox scar on my forehead that I think is cute.  So, we’ll call this traumatic childhood experience a wash.

PS - Since it is Valentine's Day, I am praying that someone will get my a musical card so I can do this all next weekend:


Stephanie said...

Awe. I'm sorry, haha. In elementary school, I wrote an anonymous love letter to the super picked on kid in school to make him feel better.
The next year, I wrote a funny one to the most popular guy in school to make him think it was some girl named Elise.
I don't know why this made me think of that, but it did. Good times. =]

Traveler@large said...

hahahah, sucker!
One time I tried to sneak a heart into the Valentine's bag of a boy I liked, it would have been clever if I had done it and he found it later...but he saw me do it and took them all out till he found it. And then, obviously I lied about putting there...

John said...

@Stephanie-that is really sweet. I'm sure that picked on kid felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Either that, or he felt he was gonna get Carried at the next school dance...
@Traveler-denial is almost ALWAYS the best course of action.