i don't fuck w u

ADVENTURES OF CEREAL BOY
AND FASHION GIRL WEENIE

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PICTURE

of the four children, you were the most photogenic toddler by far—it shows in the family albums, in stacks upon stacks of glossy 4x6s. there's you grinning triumphantly over a spilt bowl of cheerios, you grinning like a crazed cannibal with spaghetti sauce splattered on your chin (and the wall and the floor), you grinning smugly, knowingly, with a hideous diy haircut and a pair of safety scissors brandished to stab.

in retrospect, you've always been the troublemaker. (when did "endearing" become "bothersome"? when did they put the camera away, stop looking altogether?)

fifteen years old and you're standing in the backyard burning pictures with a cigarette lighter. there's one you decide to keep for posterity though, for the next time beau's ego (ballooning along with her breasts) needs deflating. it's you dolled-up in her best dress. the effect of glaring into the lens is rather ruined by mascara and the natural flush of embarrassment.

you wear it better, you think.

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TBC