“My, What Big Clay Feet You Have!”


“All the better to vaguely disappoint you with, my dear.”



August 1987: I’m 12, and I go to sleep away camp for the first time. When I sent in my application, I had visions of shaking off my smart-girl, awkward, nerd persona. I would bloom, come into my own, blossom, into the prom queen of camp.


It didn’t happen.


The night of the big dance, I’m crying in a bathroom stall. In walks Tiffany, a teenage counselor She has blonde hair, down to her waist. She wears shirts with little alligators on them. She is always laughing. She’s exactly what I want to be. Tiffany asks me what’s wrong.


I tell her I don’t want to go back in there. No one is asking me to dance.


“They all want to dance with Michelle & Kendra. ALL the boys are in love with Michelle & Kendra.”


“Oh yeah? Well, Michelle & Kendra are sluts!”


Michelle and Kendra are most definitely not sluts. They are 13 year old girls with boobs and self-confidence. But I like Tiffany’s version of events better. She knows what I need to hear. We go back to the dance, and Tiffany lets me hang out with her & the other counselors for the rest of the night.


Camp ends the next day. Tiffany writes “You were an awesome camper! See you next year!” in my autograph book.

I stare at that piece of paper, those 2 lines, for the next year. I have a hero.


Tiffany is awesome.


July 1992: I’m 17. I’m a counselor at the camp I went to. Tiffany is a member of the Central Staff, and is In Charge.


We spend the night before the campers get there, talking. Parties, drinking, boys, men. She’s dating a cowboy. I listen to her stories. I make up some of my own in a vain attempt to impress her, show her how different I am from the geeky 12 year old version of myself. Maybe we’ll be friends, slightly more equal.


The week doesn’t go so well. Tiffany doesn’t seem to actually like kids very much, and spends a lot of the week yelling at campers, talking down to the other counselors. We take a hike, with all 70 campers. Tiffany decides not to pack extra water, because it’s heavy. The temperature is over 30 degrees Celsius. Kids are dropping. She blames them, for not drinking enough water before we left. The site she’s picked for the overnight camp out is wasp infested. She tells us to “deal with it.”


Tiffany and I aren’t going to be friends.


September 2008: Through the social networking miracle that is Facebook (why yes, my tongue IS firmly in my cheek!), I see Tiffany again. She is “friends” with one of my “friends”. Her last name is changed. Her hair is shorter, but essentially, still in the same style. She has gained 50 pounds. She’s got bags under her eyes.


Tiffany sells Tupperware.


 (Photo from here.)


22 responses to ““My, What Big Clay Feet You Have!”

  1. Tiffany’s a Tupperware whore. Just telling you what you need to hear. 😛

  2. It takes plastic to know plastic.

  3. Fuck yeah, she does.


  4. Ha! Sounds a lot like my high school reunion in July. Gotta say I thoroughly enjoyed the weight gain/same hairstyle combinations that were going on. And from the some of the clothing these girls were wearing, I’m guessing there was a sale on circus mirrors… you know, the ones that make you look skinnier/better than you really do.

  5. ain’t karma a bitch? 😉

  6. Oh Tiffany. Bless her tupperware whorin’ heart.
    I always promised myself I wouldn’t revel in the low down crap I just KNEW some of those bitches from my Freshman year of college would go through in the future.
    Did I break that promise? Oh hell yeah!
    I had the integrity of a rotten tomato the day ‘Susan’ showed up at my workplace desperately looking to get out of her 24-hour diner waitress position and trying to kiss my ass into giving her a good reference.
    I cannot put into words the level of joy I felt when, right in front of ‘Susan’ I did this:
    Said – “Yeah, that’d be great to have you here.”
    Then turned to the HR Director with a look on my face that said, ‘I smell poo’, and wandered away shaking my head.

  7. Peter: Thank you 🙂 (Does this make you my new Tiffany?)

    Lara: Astute observation, my dear.

    Rassles: Welcome Back!!! And you’re right. Fuck yeah, you’re right.

    Sue: Hey, not so fast. I HAD one of those mirrors for years!

    Katie: I went to school with a girl named Karma. Who wasn’t a bitch. (But yes, it is.)

    Mongoliangirl: Oh Susan, you ought not have fucked with Mongoliangirl. (BTW, in a related event, the prettiest girl in my high school just posted pictures this morning on Facebook. She went to an orphanage in an Eastern European country to do some missionary work. She put up a picture of a statue. She labelled it “Karl Marx – he’s everywhere!!”. It was Lenin. I’m not going to tell her.)

  8. Nice stages of life piece. Great images and smooth, flowing prose (as usual).

    I’d like to defend poor Tiffany. Life is tough and Tupperware is a very useful food tool.


  9. michael: Thanks. You’re too kind, as usual. To me, it wasn’t about being mean to Tiffany, more about the air finally going out of the balloon, and being sad that my childhood hero, wasn’t. (I adore Tupperware. I steal it from other people whenever I can.)

  10. “Tiffany sells Tupperwear”

    that sounds like a good name for a porn flick

  11. All good things must come to an end? Childhood heroes rarely are what we thought they were. I could use a good hero right about now…. No good candidates for that position.

    BTW, I think you ought to correct the facebook lady who has Marx and Lenin mixed up. Let’s be fair to Karl. He wasn’t such a bad guy. Just tryin’ to help out the poor folks… 🙂

    I need to buy some Tupperware, actually. All this food I’m puttin’ up for the winter and a big new freezer. Old yogurt containers just don’t cut it in the freezer. Perhaps Tiffany will sell me some Tupperware…

  12. Facebook. Good lord. Never ceases to amaze me.

    What a great story of your childhood. Weird how we grow up and our heroes become assholes.

  13. “I think we’re alone now”….

  14. Nursemyra: I will never look at my Tupperware the same again. Although it IS more interesting now.

    Writinggb: It’s not about Marx or Lenin. It’s about me, me, ME!!! and my petty jealousies.

    Bluestreak: I take such great pleasure in seeing how people turned out. I hatelovehate Facebook.

    Xbox: She’ll never be alone, not with her vast Tupperware “family” to keep her company. But nice musical allusion, my friend.

  15. Emerald sent me over here and said I better love you or she will kick my ass. Congratulations on buying her first scarf. I would buy one but my daughter has already knitted me enough scarfs to start a scarf factory.

    I’m glad I stopped by and I do love your blog not just because I’m trying to avoid an ass kicking. I see my friend Peter Parkour has beat me here. He’s a funny guy.

    As far as Tiffany is concerned “what goes around, comes around”. Ain’t that the truth!!! 😉

  16. joan: Welcome! I will post pictures as soon as the nice folks at Canada Post get my scarf to me!

  17. hahaha….I love Facebook for its ability to track people who peaked way back when they thought they were better than me…sweet satisfaction 🙂

  18. Romi: I almost feel like I should be paying for Facebook, for all the satisfaction its given me. Almost. Not quite.

  19. How the hell did I miss this? Best story ever! Don’t you LOVE that?!?

    My version: I had abandoned my grueling bubblegum job and was still paying out my poor ass for makeup school. I started a telemarketing gig, and met Ami.

    (At this point, the story became way too long, so I’m going to turn it into a post of my own. You have inspired me. Forgive the suspense! Hahah.)

  20. Em: “My grueling bubblegum job.” Really? Gruelling?

    I patiently await your Ami post.

  21. Pingback: Why Ami Sucked « 800 Miles

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