Ask Me Something.

As a twentysomething, there are two questions I cannot avoid: (1) What's on your face? (2) Do you have a boyfriend?





Children will ask anything. Anything. They will say anything, do anything- anything. They're children, the only limits they recognize are cookies on the very top shelf and, trust me, children are intuitive and innovative- they will find a way up to that top shelf. You read Calvin and Hobbes!

So, I got a new teaching job (I use the term 'teaching' loosely) where all the students are allowed to call their teachers by their first names. This, of course, relaxes the teacher-student relationship. In some ways this is no different than students calling their teachers by their last name, especially if they are not used to the former version (the students I instruct are in Kindergarten, and 1st grade)- when you are used to one way of life, any other way is odd, yes? Yes. So, I don't hear, "Miss. Triunfo, why-?" I hear >>

"Justine? What's on your face?" (It's like I'm talking to a peer.)

"Acne. Sometimes when you grow up you get...you know, I don't actually really know what acne is."

"It looks like chicken pox."

"It's not red enough for chicken pox."

"...BURGUNDY!"

"Are you getting married?"

"No. I don't have a fiance. In fact, I'd have to have a boyfriend in order to even have a fiance."

"If you had a fiance would you marry him?"

"That's the idea of a fiance."





Now, when children become adults their questions about my complexion and romantic life are subtle, if not passive aggressive. I may not be socially graceful, but I'm pretty aware of when someone wants to offer beauty advice- it's in their eyes (is it not always?)- because it's an imitation of my dermatologist's look and tone: matteroffact and concerned. "Aren't you self-conscious?" / "More than you know."





I understand the importance of aesthetics and rules and blah blah blah. I do. I get it. Yay. My understanding, however, does not tend to override my emotional stability, if anything, it's the other way around. (Don't ask me if I'm self-conscious. Who, on this Godforsaken planet, isn't self-conscious?!)

When I am asked questions about my complexion and romantic life I only allow myself to answer as directly as I possibly can. Frankly, why can't you ask me, "Oh, have you read anything interesting lately?" / "Do you enjoy cooking?" / "Can you help me with my math homework?" / "What's the meaning of life?" / "Do you want to build a snowman?" / "HOW DID SHERLOCK SURVIVE?"

I am not incredibly smart, and I don't do many interesting things but honestly, so I can't imagine why you want to talk to me in the first place, so it boggles my mind even more than when you do talk to me you assume, "So? Anyone special?" is an okay question.

This is not entirely your fault. I guess that question bothers me in the same way it bothers tributes that everyone focuses on Katniss' love interest. You're kidding me, right? Can we think of nothing else? Are we really that hormonal?

Sorry, now I'm ranting.

Long story short: never grow up.