15.11.10

Cautionary Tale

When I was little, I loved Wonder Woman. In a very real, very obsessive way. I didn't want to be like Wonder Woman; I wanted be Wonder Woman. My parents always told me that I could be anything when I grew up, which was awesome. It meant it was, obviously, only a matter of time before I got my golden lasso, bullet-repelling bracelets, and my red, white, and blue outfit. Oh, and the headpiece. How I coveted the headpiece.

As it turns out, my parents lied. I found out the hard way. At age 4. See, one of my childless/insensitive relatives asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up (which, let's be honest, is a dumb thing to ask a kid before they're at least ten) and I said, without a second's hesitation, "Wonder Woman." Which should have been clear. I mean what kind of moron would want to be anything else? The reply from said moronic relative was, "You can't really be Wonder Woman, though. She's not real."

So I punished her by breaking into tears, which made her feel like shit, and then running to my parents for clarification. At which point I was informed that it was true: I would never be Wonder Woman.

Why, then, did they tell me I could be anything when it's entirely untrue? I demanded to know. I had never been decieved into believing in Santa or the Easter Bunny because my mother thought it was wrong to tell kids stuff that is blatently untrue. Which I thank her for because I know more than one person who was traumatized by the idea of strangers roaming their homes in the dead of night. But telling me that I could be anything was a lie, too. And there was no reason for it.

I know now that they meant that I had open options, but at four, that's a distinction you can't make. Do I think it scarred me for life? No, but it could be the reason I'm not President. So be careful what you say to your kids. I'm just saying...


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