Fear the Quack
I was terribly knocked-kneed, pigeon-toed, and stood with an
extreme swayback posture, belly out in all its glory--not to be overshadowed
by my posterior, which butted out with distinction. Imagine the gait of such a
youngster. My walk, or waddle, was successful in earning me the nickname of
"Duck Butt." Boys making quacking noises in the school hallways could
be heard over the sounds of noisy chatter and slamming lockers. Girls, my friends, bestowed upon me so many
rubber duckies that even Ernie (not Bert) was pining for a look at my
collection. By the time I was 14 years old, and after thousands of hours of
dance lessons, the problem was corrected. However, "Duck Butt" and I
were synonymous until I left home for college. I won't go back, for I fear the
quack.
photo credit:
jdsmith1021 via
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You are too freaking funny!
ReplyDeleteI love it. This is great. I would love to see the piece expanded more.
ReplyDeleteI completely relate. I walk like a duck in flat shoes. I was tall and gangly in jr. high and high school; all arms and legs. I've written poetry about those horrendous years. Luckily - I finally grew into myself. Seems you did too. Can't wait to read more!
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