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My name is Liz. I need direction. I overuse commas. My house is a mess, my hair needs a trim and I have no marketable skills: It’s fun here, you’ll see!

Got a question, comment, proposal of marriage? Great! Email me at liz@theproductivecough.com

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Got a question, comment, proposal of marriage? Great! Email me at liz@theproductivecough.com

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May 26th, 2010

Regrettable Childhood Antics, Part II

You guys remember the Power Rangers? You remember how completely stupid they were? And remember how you were, like, totally obsessed with them when you were nine?

Oh, you don’t?

I sure do.

In fact, I was so into it that, in the fourth grade, I had outfits to represent ALL FIVE of them. Not their actual fighting uniforms. That would just be stupid. I chose clothes that matched the way their alter egos dressed. And I wore them, Monday through Friday, every week. And yes, if you were wondering, there was an order.

Monday, I wore black, to be Zack the Black Ranger. Jeans, a belt, and a black t-shirt. I though I looked tough. Really, I just looked like a jerk.

Tuesday, I was Trini the Yellow Ranger. I wore a yellow, swingy top. Fact: My natural skin tone is something I’ve always liked. However, it does NOT mesh well with yellows and oranges. I look like I have a terminal illness when I wear yellow. Tuesday’s weren’t pretty.

Wednesday, I was the Red Ranger, Jason. Again, jeans, a belt, and a red sleeveless top. You know, to show off those killer biceps I had going on. Hell, I did karate- I had muscles… somewhere.

Thursday, I was Billy the Blue Ranger. Billy was the nerdy one. I chose to mimic him by wearing a blue sleeveless (there was a lot of that) shirt, overalls (which my classmates had always assured me were very dorky), and GLASSES. My eyesight was fine, but I needed to complete the look. I had some sunglasses whose lenses had fallen out, so I wore those around. Once, my friend Sally’s older brother passed me in the hallway and noted, “FOUR EYES!” I defiantly brought my right index finger up along my cheek, behind the frames and poked it out towards him, illustrating that the glasses were FAKE, thereby proving that was not a loser.  Slam dunk.

Friday, I was usually Kimberly the Pink Ranger. This consisted of a pink leotard I got as a hand-me-down and a pair of jeans. Sometimes one of those horrible floppy hats with a flower in it that the kids on Blossom used to wear. However, SOMETIMES, when I wasn’t feeling particularly feminine, I wore yet another sleeveless t-shirt. This time it was green, so that I could be Tommy the Green Ranger. The shirt had originally come with a little tiny bow on the front of it, but I tore it off, to my mother’s disappointment. I remember her saying to me once, “Oh, I thought that’s why we got you this shirt.” Um, no. It was so I could look like this guy:

So, to sum up, in the fourth grade, I was a loon who chose to dress up like a bunch of kids who fought robots and lizards and a woman named Rita who lived on a space station or something (I don’t remember all the Rangers lore). How I made it through that year with my pride and limbs is a testament to just how much children don’t care about each other. To them, I was just some weenie who wore fake glasses on Thursdays and helped them with their vocabulary homework. But to me, I was completely radical.

I would like to publicly say: They were right. I was wrong.

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