SWOLLEN EYES AND BEE ATTACKS: THE RETURN OF 8TH GRADE

Middle school is a strange time of life. Bodies are changing, emotions are fragile, and everything about it is just awkward. Like really, really awkward. A woman I look up to once described it as "the armpit of life," which I feel is an apt summation of the experience. Yet while everyone isn't horrifically smothered inside of this armpit, I'm pretty sure no one makes it out completely unscathed. Even me (hard to believe, I know). But we grow up and move on and figure out how to navigate social situations with a little less awkwardness and everything is fine. Or so I thought. 

A few weeks ago, I relived middle school--8th grade, to be precise. 

And now that it's been a couple weeks and I can finally view what happened with humor (instead of the terror I felt at the time), I would like to share it with you, because it's that ridiculous, and further proof that if something like this can happen to anyone, it will definitely happen to me. 

Yep.

Before I begin, I must share two stories from my early adolescence. 

First Story:

One Autumn day, near the beginning of my 8th grade year, I noticed little wrinkles forming under my eyes. The next morning, I woke up and could barely see. Why was that? MY EYES WERE SWOLLEN. LIKE BASEBALLS. So I wore sunglasses to school to hide my hideousness and I felt like a freak and I had to talk to all of my teachers to tell them why I was wearing sunglasses since it was against the dress code. Both my doctor and my mom couldn't figure out why it happened, but after a couple days it went away and became just another awkward thing that all of my friends liked to remind me about.

Second Story:

I was reading a book in the middle of our family's SUV with the window open about an inch or so as my dad drove us all somewhere on a Saturday afternoon, when in my peripheral vision I noticed a giant, fuzzy bee descending upon my book. And being terrified of bees, I did what any slightly-dramatic 13-year-old would do: I simultaneously unbuckled my seatbelt while flipping backwards into the seat behind me, narrowly avoiding kicking my little brother in the head and strangling myself on the seatbelt. My dad swerved off into a parking lot and opened the doors to get the bee out, and my family was traumatized.

Now, keep these stories in mind as I spin my horrific yarn of déjà vu. 

It began by looking in the mirror and seeing this:

MY EYES. THEY WERE SWOLLEN. AGAIN. ON THE FIRST DAY OF THE SEMESTER.

So I stayed home, took a bunch of Benadryl, and laid on the couch all day. Oh, and felt like a loser, that too. I'm assuming the catalyst was the new makeup I bought the weekend before, but I've tried quite a few over the years and 99% of the time my eyes don't turn into gigantic swollen balls of gross. So...who's to say? 

But it couldn't just end there. No, it wasn't over. After a few hours I heard some buzzing coming from the blinds in the window and realized, with terror, that something evil had found its way inside:

(This picture is completely inaccurate, but it gets the point
across, so just work with me here. I'm bad at drawing blinds.)

I will illustrate the rest of what happened through the texting conversation between my husband and I that followed this revelation:

Me: THERE IS ANOTHER HUGE BEE YELLOW JACKET THING IN THE BLINDSHim: HOW?!
M: I DONT KNOW BUT I'M GOING TO DIE
H: I BET YOU ITS THE HOLE WHERE THE CABLE COMES IN
H: DON'T WORRY, WE'LL GET NEW WINDOWS SOONM: IT'S TRYING REALLY HARD TO GET BETWEEN THE BLINDS
H: WEIRD. KEEP THEM BABIES CLOSED TIGHT.
M: I HATE THIS SO MUCH
H: IT CANT GET THROUGH. THERE'S NO SPACE.
M: BUT IT ALMOST DID
H: HOW?
H: CAN YOUR BROTHER COME KILL IT?
M: I PUT SOME RAGS AT THE BOTTOM AND CLOSED THEM AS TIGHT AS I COULD
M: I'LL BE OKAY 
M: BUT I HATE THIS DAY
M: IT'S STOPPED MAKING NOISE. I'M SCARED.
H: IT KNOWS THAT RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

(2 hours later)

M: THE BEE GOT OUT IN THE ROOM AND IVE BEEN TRYING TO GET IT TO FLY OUT FOR HALF AN HOURH: WHERE IS IT NOW?
H: SHUT THE BEDROOM DOOR!
H: ISOLATE THAT SHIZ!
M: I OPENED THE BLINDS AND NOW I CAN'T CLOSE THEM
M: HOW DO YOU CLOSE THEM
M: I THINK IT MIGHT BE DEAD BUT I'M NOT SURE
M: I'M GOING TO DIE
M: AND ALL OF THIS IS ONLY MAKING ME FEEL MORE GROSS 
M: AND NOW THE TV WON'T WORK
H: GO KILL IT
M: I THINK IT'S DEAD
H: PUT IT IN THE JAR
M: I CAN'T SEE IT!!!!!

And I still have no idea what happened to it. But I'm pretty sure it died. I think. Also, for your information, this has happened at least three more times since this fateful day because our house is old and our landlord is lazy and still hasn't fixed anything. (I'm clearly not bitter.) 

So yeah. This happened.

(I used my jeans as a weapon.)