I, naturally, went the road of dress up.
One of my purest loves was, and continues to be, Star Wars. I saw them for the first time when they were rereleased in the theaters in the late nineties and my heart was claimed.
Anyway, my mom comes home from work one day in the middle of April to find me watching Empire Strikes Back for the umpteenth time. And dressed like Princess Leia. Not Princess Leia with the buns. Of course not, that’s not accurate to Empire. I was Princess Leia on Hoth. All white garb, gray boots, and hair braided (not well, but the attempt was there). My father, having innocently been going about yard work, did not realize I’d been turning our TV room into a rebel base.
We laugh about it now, but there is still a trace of terror in my parents’ eyes when it’s mentioned.This horror did not, however, prevent them from taking pictures of my follies. And thus my efforts to get closer to the story were immortalized.
I already admitted the braids weren't good. Give me a break.
I think however, that more than my foray into Alliance leadership, the period with the most potential for embarrassment was that in which I was obsessed with The Mighty Ducks. Not because there is anything wrong or innately mortifying about these films. Far from it. I continue to stalwartly support them. If for nothing other than the following reasons:
- Everything I know about hockey comes from those movies.
- "When the roosters are crowing and the cows are spinning circles in the pastures?..... Ducks fly together!"
- Gunnar Stahl's reincarnation as the Varsity Goalie in D3.
- The fact that when I was out watching U.S. play hockey in the 2010 Olympics, the people around me chanted "Quack, quack, quack" almost as much as "U.S.A., U.S.A., U.S.A."
So, clearly, it’s not the movie choice that embarrasses me. Nope. They’re classics. It is the fact that I felt to truly complete the movie watching experience I had to wear roller blades, carry a hockey stick and don my brother’s umpire gear (the closest thing I could find to a hockey uniform in the house). That’s what gives me pause.
Over the years, I managed to quiet my sobs to a dignified single tear rolling gracefully down my cheek (unless we’re talking about Homeward Bound. When Shadow comes over that hill, I’m still a total goner. But…you know…that’s respectable). I’ve traded out my dress up for a habit of yelling at characters on TV and in movies. It requires less time and preparation.
But if I suddenly found myself eleven years old again, knowing what I know now……….well, I’d probably just pull on the umpire mask, grab a box of tissues and press play.