What, you want me to come out looking like you, cactus butt?
shenzi, the lion king
I figured some lighthearted trauma was needed to break up the monotony of bad shit that’s gone on in my life. Here is one story that I don’t mind never living down, because at the end of the day, it was fucking hilarious.
Mommy dearest was the family photo kind of 90’s mother. I mean, was there any other kind? They all kind of adored taking family photos, let’s just be real. Well, when you’re a Texan and you enjoy family photos, seeing a field of cacti and bluebonnets then mixing in a sunset is an amateur photographers wet dream.
I’m not sure I’ve ever even seen this family photograph.
Let me set the scene for you. It’s late 90’s, Texas, the bluebonnet field across from a quiet suburban house, the sun is setting, time is running out to get this year’s once in a day’s photograph for gods-only-know-what occasion, thinking back, I’m not sure I’ve ever even seen this family photograph. You’ve got dread father, annoyed that he must yet again wrangle his two well behaved daughters, mommy dearest, technologically challenged but mostly capable of setting the timer on the same camera she’s likely been using for some time, Emily, the one who is actually likely to be wrangling me, and me, unwilling and uncomfortable with the entire ordeal.
We were told to squat and smile. Why do we have to look like we are taking and pushing a massive solid shit? Well to make sure the bluebonnets are in the photo of course, not like you could angle the camera to include them or anything, they’ve got to be right there in our faces, this means all of us must squat down. Yeah, the logic is lost on me, too. Daylight is running out, the clock is racing, anxiety is setting in, I’m sure the volume on my dad’s temper was rising to levels the neighbors could potentially hear. It was pure overstimulation.
Butt I couldn’t help it!!
But remember when I mentioned there were cacti? Yeah, well little me didn’t remember, not until mommy dearest told me to “squat everyone! but don’t sit on a cactus, say cheese!” and bam! Right on a cactus. Square in the tiny ass cheek of my 8–10-year-old self. How embarrassing! Remember that no crying in public rule? It still applied even when there was no audience. Butt I couldn’t help it!! There were cactus quills in my skin through my clothing. You cannot seriously think I wouldn’t scream.
I did refuse my parents offer to remove them though, how embarrassing that would have been for them to have seen my bare bottom. Hell no. I was too old for that. But Emily I could trust not to make fun of me or be weird about it. I trusted Emily because instead of yelling at me for sitting on the cactus, she comforted me, told me it was going to be ok. So, what does she do to help me stop crying while she plucks cactus needles from my rear end? She puts on Dis ney’s The Lion King and quotes the movie. “There ain’t no way I’m going in there. What, you want me to come out looking like you, cactus butt?”
It stuck. Still has, just like those pricks did… It’s something she poked fun at with love…
And now I have a new nickname. It stuck. Still has, just like those pricks did when I sat square on that unsuspecting, innocent cactus. Even well into my 30’s I’m still Cactus Butt to Emily. I’m perfectly okay with that. It’s something she poked fun at with love and we both laughed.
Love you, Em.
Ridi
Traumatized Viridimere 