Monday, June 25, 2007
DAMN, IT FEELS GOOD TO BE A BADASS
I was a wussy kid. I had problems socializing (I now realize that this was probably due to the fact that I hadn’t ever really spoken English prior to kindergarten so it still felt very foreign on my tongue. I should add, though, that while I couldn't speak the language, I tested at a sick reading level, which I still find very peculiar), I couldn’t keep up in gym class, and someone made me cry at school almost every single day.
I was as far from cool as one could get.
And yet, have you seen a more badass creature than the one in the pic above? I’m four or five in it and, sweet goodness, between the apathetic posture, the black with red-trimmed galoshes over red tights, the crazy attempt at cornrows, the puffy Victorian-meets-the-‘80s inspired rockin' dress, and the “I’ll-shiv-you-bitches-if-you-stare-too-long” gaze, I look like I could obliterate just about anyone. And, let’s not forget the turntable over my left shoulder (sure, it’s probably just a record player but badass-tot-Sabila demands that it be an EFFIN’ TURNTABLE so she can spin sick beats).
Goddamn, it feels good to be a gangsta…or look like one in a photograph.