Grade 5 was the first time I had a boy tell me he had a crush on me.

Well, he didn’t exactly tell me. He sent me an email to my newly minted email address, babybop90; it was an e-card playing Shaggy’s “Angel” with exploding hearts, kittens sitting on fluffy clouds, and glittery letters saying, “LUV U GURL.”

There were a lot of emotions circulating my 11-year-old, barely-pubescent body upon opening that email—horror, excitement, surprise, lust—but the one I remember most vividly is embarrassment. I felt embarrassed not for me, though, but rather for him.

Grade 5 was also the first time I remember being aware that I was fat.

My class had just concluded our presentations for Career Week. The topic: “What do I want to be when I grow up?”

There were firemen, teachers, veterinarians, and a large handful of marine biologists (the job that had a chokehold on every girl in the 1990s), but I chose actress. I wore a pink feather boa and recited my essay in the form of an Oscar acceptance speech, and I thought I absolutely smashed it. I thought my classmates were going to remember that moment years later when I was super famous and say, “Wow, I........

© Georgia Straight