click to enlarge

Since the majority of my readers are barely out of their teenage years, or wish they were, it won’t be a stretch to remember what it was like being a teenager. I know I can remember every agonizing moment. It’s that time where absolutely nothing is right, you feel like everybody’s looking at you, they are by the way, your coat feels funny, you walk stupid, and your antlers, your poor antlers. You can’t even grow a pair of decent antlers.

The young cows are now looking at the herd bull with his magnificent antlers with an appraising eye and totally ignoring you except when they’re humiliating you with agonizing comments of “Hey Dweeb, nice antlers” or “Great set of antlers you got there Skippy, didn’t they have them in your size?” It is the worst time of your life.

But and this is a big but, things change. I know right now that doesn’t seem possible, but they do. Next year you’ll have filled out a little more, the big bulls will let you hangout around the edge of the herd so you can learn how to walk and act cool, your voice will change and it won’t be long and your squeaky call will morph into a full-throated bellow, things will be looking up.

And your antlers, whoa dude are you going to have a set of antlers. They’re going to rise up out of your forehead, spread four feet across and three feet high. They’ll fork into needle sharp spears and be 5 or 6 points a side by your fifth year and weigh twenty pounds. Big heavy beams, gorgeous polished tines, you may be even be a Royal. Anything’s possible. Then it’ll be your turn to say “I don’t know babe, maybe later”. So hang in there, better days are coming. But for right now, honestly, go hang out in the bushes til those things fall off.