Archive - Armpit

I had a teacher when I was four named Elaine. Elaine was Filipino I think. She had the same hair as Kelly from Saved by the Bell except it was dark black. She was also big boned and always looked a little displeased, like she wasn’t where she wanted to be in life teaching all of us. She always reminded me of a hippo. Not because of her size but just how she could look so happy sitting lazily and then snap when she was disturbed all of a sudden.

She liked me though, I think. One time when I was playing on the field she called me over to the teacher blanket. She told me to look at the picture other teacher, Daisy, was holding of her boyfriend.

“Isn’t his chest too hairy? she asked me giggling.

I could barely see his face – he was ruddy and smiling with squinty eyes and all I could think was: thats the hairiest chest I’ve ever seen. I stared at the picture for so long, trying to get used it until even I knew it was awkward.

Elaine laughed the bubbliest laugh I’ve ever heard and Daisy took the picture back. I didn’t really know what to do – I thought it was weird seeing that picture of Daisy’s boyfriend with his hairy chest and squinty face. Should I tell my mom? I thought. How would that go? Mom I saw Daisy’s boyfriend’s picture today and it was just his hairy chest and I just thought I should tell you that.

Elaine was always happiest teasing Daisy.  Or the one time she came over for dinner with her boyfriend Kevin and I made them both go on the trampoline with me, like a little wing woman, making Kevin look good while he played with me.

A little after that I think she and Kevin broke up. I remember thinking it when we were driving back from a field trip she had been grumpily chaperoning on. She was sitting with her eyebrows furrowed, quiet except for a couple shushes when the boys got too loud.

I was sitting next to her and kept staring at her. I know this because a couple times she said, “What?” and I just looked away. Because I didn’t know what. Hence my staring.

I could tell something was wrong and I started trying to figure out what to do to make it better. We were coming back from Half Moon Bay and it was a long drive of my staring, and her what-ing, and my almost asking what was wrong and stopping myself.

Finally I thought of something.

I had to tickle her.

It seemed faultless. Bound to work, but just took a little taking one for the team on my part.

By this I mean, she was wearing a sleeveless collared shirt with areas of target exposed: the armpits.

I took a look at them. She didn’t bother with shaving them. She had fleshy arms and bits of sweaty Secret residue throughout. But I knew what had to be done.

I lifted a small right hand and reached for the hairy underarm.

Right as I came in contact and before I could say “tickle tickle” she scowled at me and said “WHAT are you doing.”

I yanked my hand out from under her arm speechlessly.

“I don’t know,” I finally said.

“Don’t…do that to people!” she said as I sunk down in my seat and tried to sneakily wipe my hand off on my jean shorts.

I was so shocked. Who didn’t know a tickle when they felt one? I had tried to put her in a better mood only to put her in a worse one.

I went home that night thinking about the failed tickling incident, and Elaine, and Kevin, and Daisy’s boyfriend’s hairy chest.

Shortly after that, Elaine stopped working at the school. I often wondered where she went or where she is or what happened with her. Maybe that tickle was really bad.

At the time I realized something seemed to happen where people got stuck in moods. I didn’t know what moods or why and I didn’t know what that was like.

I just thought maybe I needed to learn to get stuck in moods. Because there was something I didn’t know that you could feel that a tickle couldn’t cure.

But looking back, maybe I still don’t know what that is. Because if a four year old kid reached over and shoved their little hand under my armpit after they’d been staring at me sitting in a bad mood, I would know what was going on.

The old spontaneous 1-2 tickle trick. And that I need to snap out of it.

Xoxo,

C