Showing posts with label ARE YOU THERE GOD? IT'S ME. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ARE YOU THERE GOD? IT'S ME. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

I Was in Love With Moose Freed

I was in love with Moose Freed.  You remember him.  He mowed the lawns in the neighborhood in Are You There God?  It's Me, Margaret.  Margaret loved him, too, which made sense, because in my mind, Margaret and I were best friends.  So it was just logical that we'd have the same taste in men/older teenage boys/neighborhood lawnmowers.  

Moose was an easy one for both Margaret and me.  We could worship him from afar, Margaret from the other side of the lawn, and me from the safety of a book.  Margaret was new in town, much younger than Moose, and a bit on the shy side--all distinct disadvantages.  I was at a distinct disadvantage where Moose or anyone like Moose, aka, a boy was concerned.  I had glasses and braces.  And they weren't those nice little stick-on braces that they have now.  The kind they have now can be practically invisible, undetectable.  Let me assure you that if there was any hint of a light source nearby, my braces were plenty detectable.  Those shiny silver bands went around each and every one of my teeth and they came with something really special:  headgear.  And mine wasn't the semi-acceptable kind that was somewhat hidden around the back of your neck.  Nope.  Mine had a form-fitting cap of sorts that rested on the back of my head and fed two giant wires to my mouth.  I guess you'd have to see the "before" picture of me on my website (www.annhaywoodleal.com, if you don't believe me...it's the picture of the kid with the yo-yo) to fully appreciate the severity of my orthodontia.  I didn't have to wear the headgear for the full twenty-four hours in the day...but it left a beautiful imprint on the back of my hair to make it look as if I was still wearing it.

Each of the fifteen plus times I read Are You There God?  It's Me, Margaret., I waited for Moose to really notice Margaret, as if Judy Blume had magically changed the story on me.  If there was a chance for Margaret, maybe there was a chance for my 13-year-old self!