Kate's Point of View

On nuns at my Catholic grade school:

I know what a nun’s hair looks like under her habit. I know the peculiarity of seeing a woman who has spent 20+ years wearing nothing but a habit in public suddenly shopping for “plain” clothes. I have lied to a nun. I have had a nun tell me that me that she shared my liberal thoughts on Catholicism and that sometimes you have to pick and choose what works for you. I have seen a nun play kickball in full habit. I have been in the same school with a nun for seven years and never learned her name – referring to her only as Sister Mary Lunchroom. I have thought about what the prettiest nun name to have would be – Sister Mary Theresa. I have thought Sister Mary Claire was awesome.

On nuns at my Catholic high school:

I have had a nun ask me for more information on STDs. I have had a nun teach me about sex ed. I have seen a nun in black beat up chucks and blue jeans. A nun has showed me her tattoo. I have cried in front of a nun. I have had a nun teach me how to curtsy – dip low Ladies. I have had a nun tell me how to cross my legs – at the ankles Ladies. I have had a nun tell me what color panties to wear under a white dress – white or flesh colored, because Ladies, we don’t want to show the world what you have to offer. I have seen a nun color inside the lines. I have tricked a nun to believe that I was a member of a cult. I have ducked out of site of a nun to avoid detention.

I have decided to do a little series of WOTDs in memorial / memory of someone whom I am finally able to laugh and talk about.

Entry 1:

Back when I was in college my freshman I used to “smoke” all of the time when I got mad at myself for doing something stupid. I felt like I kept accidentally walking into stupid situations (usually with stupid boys) so at least when I smoked I knew it was stupid from the get go.

I would walk from my dorm up the street to this little convenient store on campus and buy cigarettes. I didn’t know one brand from another so I always ended up buying Reds, which I now know are not your beginner type of ciggys.

On these smoking nights I would skulk around campus puffing away – sometimes a whole pack at a time – and by the end of the night my tongue would be numb. It turns out the tongue numbing was because I never actually inhaled once in all my days of smoking and so the smoke and nicotine would just sit in my mouth. How did I discover you this you ask? Good question.

My junior year I was again feeling like I did something stupid. I doubt is was boy related because this is also the year I went through my “I Hate Boys” phase and dressed a lot in drag, kind of. Whatever the occasion was though, I bought some ciggys to make myself feel better.

And I finally really inhaled.

And the room spun.

And spun.

And I sat down on the floor scared out my mind. What was going on? This isn’t what smoking was supposed to feel like!

And so I called Mandi and I can admit now that I was crying when I called her because I was so frickin’ scared. And she, in all her wisdom, came over and laughed at me and she, the non-smoker, explained to me that I finally got my smoking buzz.