TBT to 1992: "What Am I Supposed To Use? Underwear On My Head?"

It's Thursday, which means...time for another Throwback to Hell! Let's revisit my middle school journal (previously featured here and here) and see what kind of melodramatic antics I was up to in 1992, shall we?

There was a SUPREME crisis in seventh grade when I couldn't figure out who wrote
"Great picture" in my yearbook. Was it a boy or girl?! Sarcastic or not?! omggggg!!
Also, please note that the half-perm was still in effect.

Just in case you were ever wondering what my birth order position is, I think this post will clear that right the hell up. I grew up with two older siblings (Stacy and Carrie) and two younger siblings (Mari and Steve), which put me right in the middle, with all the angst and melodrama that go along with being the middle child. And possessiveness, apparently, as evidenced by the repeated underlining of the word MY in this (unedited) entry, written when I was twelve years old:

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December 5, 1992
     I am fed up with Mom. She's giving Steve my stuff. Like, awhile ago she gave Steve some of my books that I still read. She gave them to him without me even knowing! Just because he can read better than most 2nd-graders, she practically buys him bookstores. Just the other day I went in and asked Steve if I could borrow one of my books. That's crazy!
     Just now, Steve says that Mom gave Steve my earwarmer - the black one. What am I supposed to use? Underwear on my head? Mari says it's probably not even mine. But I know it is because the back is a little wider than the front, and that's like the one Steve's wearing. Mari and Steve practically resent me because I'm older. And Stacy and Carrie I can't really relate to because they always talk about stuff I don't understand. High school junk. And Mari and Steve want to play Legos or play karate or soccer or something. Can I help it if I don't really want to play Legos? I tried to once and they said to go away. I've done that while they play soccer, too. I'll ask them if I can play, and they'll say, "The teams'll be uneven." So I can't play. I have no place in this family. That's the only reason I hate summers. School is great now. The only reason I talk so much in school is because I can't even talk to anyone at home.
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Aw. Poor little Cathy. Was anyone else - in my family or any family - this concerned with claiming possession of books and earwarmers?! I feel bad for my little seventh-grade self. It really did suck feeling so out of place among my siblings. And oh my god did I hate playing Legos. I tried to like them, I swear. If Rowan ever gets into them, that's all J.J. Oh, and yes, I used to get in massive trouble for talking so much in school - had my seat moved multiple times, earned the nickname "Chatty Cathy," even had a note sent home once (the pinnacle of punishment, in my sheltered, goody-goody world). But what CHOICE did I have? CLEARLY I couldn't talk to ANYONE at home.

And I know that effing earwarmer was mine.

Good lord.

Happy Throwback Thursday, friends.