SOCIAL STUDIES: Watching Someone in the Throes of Puberty is Worse Than Puberty

You know how people use that phrase, "oh, being ___ was great, but I wouldn't want to do it again." And how usually the blank is filled in with a number between 12 and 18? And how, looking at the mess of collagen implants and Botox filler and lifts and tucks staring back at you, your internal bullsh*t alarm is screaming so loud you're afraid that s/he can hear it, too?

Well believe it. Witnessing puberty as a non-involved adult (read: not the parent) is far worse than puberty itself. Being the parent to puberty is akin to martyrdom, of course.

Think about it – when I'm at the movie theater, talking about how great Steve Julius's new buzz-cut looks, and how wouldn't it be better if overalls came in plaid, and oh my god Wet n' Wild has sparkle polish coming out, I am under the impression that I am having a blast with my friends. The couple in front of me, though, thinking they were going to see a meaningful movie addressing an as-yet-unknown element of the holocaust experience, might be slightly less convinced of this.

Or say I'm totally annoyed that I have to be seen out with my mom, at a boutique with stuff in it that she likes, of all places, a boutique that doesn't have a single Jonas Brothers-themed piece of merchandise in sight. Sure, it's not as bad as if we were at the mall, OMG, and someone might see me, but, like, at least then I'd get to be at the mall, mom. Like, DUH. It sucks to have all these hormones and emotions raging through my body, making me feel like sometimes I just have to blast early Alanis (totally vintage) and cry alone in my room, because no one understands how hard it is to be me, but it sucks much more to be attempting to buy a wedding gift for a couple you don't like on a budget you don't have to the chorus of "Oh my GOD, mom, I don't even like this store! I know I didn't tell you something I wanted to do instead, but I did say I didn't like this. There's not even anywhere to sit." All that forceful, desperately bitter emphasis on words is tiring just to listen to – coming up with the venom to spit it out all over other quietly paying customers takes an effort. Or maybe it's just a side-effect from the new topical cream the kiddies are takin' these days. Either way, it didn't come out of my loins, and yet here I am, just trying to revive the failing economy with an injection of the money I should be spending on food, but forced instead to listen to it, anyway.

Puberty's complete self-absorption is finally explained: if the pubescent were able to see how horribly annoying, insipid, and pointlessly bitchy they are, the human race would die out in a fiery inferno of embarrassed hormones.

Hey, a grown-up can dream, right?

-Posted by Jilly