A Little Girl, Year Zero

Before I post, I apologize for not updating since my first post. I know no one is reading this yet, but someday someone might, and I apologize to them for how stupid and lazy it must make me look. My goal now is to write a story a day until I run out of stories. Whether or not I keep that "promise" is yet to be determined.


A Little Girl, Year Zero

I was born on an unremarkable day in June. Six years later, I would flip anxiously through the pages of a library book called The Year You Were Born: A Day-By-Day Record of 1986 only to find that the day of my birth was marked only by Michael Jackson's acquiring a pet giraffe.

My mother named me after the one-hit wonder that recorded "Walking on Sunshine" and added two middle names to make it too long to fit on a driver's license. The doctor had told my parents to expect a boy, so my grandparents planned for a hermaphrodite, knowing that the doctors are very often wrong about those sorts of things. My mother was constantly counting her chickens before they hatched, and she and her friends all knew that the baby would be a boy. To compensate, she dressed me in baby-sized overalls, flannel, and even miniature work boots, complete with rubber soles and took pictures of me with my cousin Kyle, just a few months younger, to prove that I was "one of the boys".