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I grew up in the Southern California town of Riverside. It's rumored there was a raging torrent just at the base of Mount Rubidoux, but alas it's now a trickle that leads down to the coast. When I escaped to the beach side community of Laguna Beach, I couldn't have been happier. I was elated to get out of the Hell-hole that was my childhood. Maybe television, with it's unrealistic view of the southern California lifestyle made me hate my birthplace or perhaps it was because my family was lower class, surrounded by affluent middle and upper classes wherever I turned. They were smarter, they were prettier, they had blue jeans from the Gap. My wardrobe was from the good ole KMart on the other side of town. Growing up in California made me think I should be a tan, blond, cheerleader, with the ability to surf and tap dance. The reality? I was a nerd. Not in the straight A student sort of way, no not that nerd. I was classified as a band geek. Yes, I played flute in the marching band. I wore the same jeans to school almost every day. I had glasses and frizzy hair. Why did no one pull me aside and explains the wonders and joys of hair product?

Every Sunday morning, my Great Aunt Laura would pick me up for church. My sister had endured the same ritual ten years before, the car horn would tot and I would appear at the door of her Buick Century. She would look me over and decide if the white trash outfit I had put together was acceptable for the Lord. When she was satisfied, I would climb in the sedan and head off for church an hour before anything started. She loved to have a good parking place right in front and felt this was a good time to bond with me, ask me all about school, how my "studies" were coming along. I would smile and politely tell her, lying of course, that everything was fine, great, couldn't be better. What I wanted to say was this: "You know what Auntie? School sucks ass! The kids and mean and tease me all the time! I don't have the right clothes or hair and I need new shoes!" But, I went with her to church which I actually enjoyed and kept my mouth shut. I loved singing the hymns and every now and then I understood the sermon. What I could not comprehend was the sweetness of my peers. I would be seeing them on Monday morning. We stood in a circle together from kindergarten through high school, holding hands, praying and talking about Jesus. Monday morning they would ignore me again. They were the Star Belly Sneetches.

Revenge can be sweet,

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