July 2003 Culture ¢ the other press ©

Poetry/Fiction/Essays/etc.

 
  
   
   
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
   
 
    
     
  
      
 
    
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
         
   
 
 
 
  

      
   

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Bordello Red - Family Room

Carpet

By Tamara Billau

Here I practiced gymnastics

When no one else was around, I was Nadia Comaneci

I could do no wrong

My imaginary judges gave me a perfect ten on

every somersault, every handstand, every cartwheel and round off

Over the roar of the crowd, I listened carefully for my Mom
Gymnastics were not allowed in the house

Occasionally, I was overenthusiastic

The snaps on my leotard would spring free

The judges didn’t notice or care that my underoos were showing

The other kids in my Saturday morning trampoline class were not so oblivious

I was the under-ginch kid for the rest of grade three
Powder Blue - Living Room

Here I learned to hand-jive

At my eighth birthday party, I was Olivia Newton John

With her as my inspiration, my life as a goody-goody began here

Owning the soundtrack to “Grease” made me the object of envy and admiration My new
Shaun Cassidy record made me master of all I surveyed

Parental Logic—Gymnastics were not allowed in the house
Dance routines where I was flipped over my partner’s head were encouraged

I alternated between the two records constantly for the next two months
Eventually, they disappeared

My brother put KISS records between the sleeves

“Love Gun” just didn’t speak to me like

“Hopelessly Devoted to you”

 
   

Sea-foam Green - Spare bedroom

 
 

Here I modeled my mom’s old clothes
In this room I was stylish and refined like her

All the ensembles she no longer wore but just couldn't throw away
Candy-striped pantsuits, terry-cloth jumpers, and hideous bridesmaids dresses
Keeping company with my mom’s own frothy wedding dress

When I was eight, I was allowed to try on that lacy white confection
Sadly, it was the last time it fit

This room was also the lair of the hair dryer: my own personal nemesis
My iron straight hair would be cruelly wrapped around perm rods

A futile attempt to make me look like Shirley Temple

While the dome dryer frizzed my tresses into a honey-blonde afro

I would stare at the ballerina curtains and plot my revenge

 

i

 

Bublicious grape - My parent’s room

Here the new TV lived

The picture was so clear you could see the pores on Steve Austin’s face
During commercials, I would tell my mom about my day

The Hobbit, stinky George Taylor and my perfect score on the spelling test
She listened like I was fascinating—a skill she has perfected over the years

4 The second television was my salvation

|) ©Never again would I be subjected to the theme from Hockey Night in Canada
On my Mon?’ lilac phone I made my first phone call to a boy Beige - Everywhere
I never actually talked to Randy; I just called and hung up, constantly

He was cooler than Fonzie and cuter than Vinnie Babarino

I showed my devotion by constantly driving past his house on my green bike
Some might consider this stalking but I still call it one of my better relationships

Just before my ninth birthday
I was allowed to show the real estate agent around

He seemed a bit put off by my colourful home but quickly found a buyer
The carpet in the new house was beige throughout, for re-sale value
Around that time my childhood memories also lost their vivid colour
They became a dull rainbow in shades of beige

Eggshell, cream, off-white, ecru, taupe and bone

fh

 

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