Best. Friend. Irita.

Eighth grade must have been a tough year for me. It certainly seems to have been my naughtiest! There was a set of Hawaiian twins, Irita and Lovita. Irita was one of my best friends. She and her sister couldn't have been more different from each other. Lovita was tall, slim and quiet. Irita was more of a tomboy and she was a large person. She wore muu muu's a lot. She was also really good at lots of sports that required strength. One of our favorite past time was having her pick us up by one arm and one leg and twirling us around. There wasn't anyone she couldn't lift!

In those days we got weighed and measured in class. They called your name and you went to the front where the teacher weighed and measured you in front of everyone. She recorded your information in a book and it wasn't public knowledge...unless you happen to see it while she was writing. Well...I did, see it! I have no idea what in the world I was thinking but as I walked back to my desk I whispered to a friend, "Wow, Irita weighs two hundred pounds!" Again, I don't know what I was thinking because, stupid me! Irita's desk was two desks behind mine and after I finished whispering I looked up to see her staring at me with the most sad look I'd ever seen...on anyone! She never said anything about it to me. She could have pummeled me but she NEVER said a word. In fact, she continued to be my friend.

It was another one of those moments from my past that cause me pain. Pain that I could have ever been so cruel to another human being. I often wonder and hope that Irita has had a good life because she certainly deserved it. She was kind, soft spoken, humble and forgiving; just the kind of qualities you would want in a mother.

I've spent my life sufficiently punished. For as long as I can remember I've battled the bulge and on many occasions been over the number that the teacher recorded for Irita in the book. Yup, life has a way of evening things up!