A Prayer for Junior High

Someone I trust once said that our temptations come with a cap. That no matter how warm and slippery the notion that curls up beside us and whispers in our ear, we should have the substance to deal with it. What ever that means. It grants me no comfort whatsoever, cowering in the endless wave of brunettes washing over my negligence.

Am I to believe all the road signs? All the ones with gigantic red arrows pointed at my ass? That my God and my self consumption are one in the same?

Boundaries are something I’ve never been good at. Growing up I heard the same tirade from everyone: DON’T HAVE SEX! IT’S BAD AND IT’S DIRTY AND YOU’RE NOT OLD ENOUGH AND YOU’RE NOT MARRIED ENOUGH! Although initiated by mommy and daddy, this sentiment was reinforced by everyone from crazy old Aunt Edna to my school principal, Mr. Bapp. (Which, by the way, was a very conservative, very Christian private school run by uneducated half-wits where homosexuals languished in the closet, smoking weed was something hippies did in the 70’s and war was a great and noble thing under the banner of the all American red, white and blue. And, oh yeah, don’t kill your unwanted babies because Jesus wants them for a sunbeam.)

So sex was a no-no - as it was explained to me. Or should I say, as it WASN’T explained to me. I mean, what was sex anyway? For all I knew, you could get it down the street at the 7-11. The subject was so taboo - so off limits - so unspeakable, that Song of Solomon was left off our yearly bible reading schedule. Did we really need to hear about how her breasts were like clusters of grapes? Well, sure we did. I know I did. I was getting ready to face my first real temptation. (Which, by the way, was thrust upon me like birthday cake at a children’s party…Not that I didn’t want it though. I did. I wanted to eat that cake - every bite - even lick the porcelain plate clean of all excess icing.)

But per our discussion, I just want to make something clear. This temptation was not something I had the substance to deal with. This was not a choice I had to make. I had none in the matter. You see, I was only 14 years old, and I didn’t even really know how my own parts worked - much less that of any female. What I did know was this: Laurie Lloyd had the largest breasts I had ever seen in my entire young life, and when I did see them - when I thought about them as clusters of grapes, my body started acting up in ways I could never have anticipated. It was then I knew that Solomon wasn’t called the wisest man in the world for no reason.

Laurie was legally blind and about 4 inches, 2 grades and 1 shoe size bigger than me. Her left eye wrenched northward while her right eye pulled south, and her breasts seemed to mirror this strange cockeyed ness. But underneath her coke-bottle glasses from Pearl Vision, an orange fuzzy sweater and a Jordache support bra, there was something beautiful, and none was the wiser...except maybe for Solomon.

As for me…I was about to enter that promised land. That Holy of Holies. Where temptations are not a trial to separate the wheat from the chaff; but instead, a gift from God, accompanied with the well wishes of :
“Oh taste and see. The fruit is sweet. Have your fill”.
Amen.