Burger Queen

I had this friend growing up that would pick her nose. Just that would be fine. All kids and most (yes, I said most) adults do it too. (It's about to get gross.)

She would pick her nose, take the booger and roll it into a little ball.

(It's about to get grosser.)

Then, she would take it and place it back inside her nose, for safe keeping.

(I'm about to be gross too.)

I tried this once with her in the back of her parent's van. In a word, it was uncomfortable.

I can't explain why this happened. And I also can't explain why I have a lingering thought that she would compare the process and/or the end product as a "burger."


I spent a large part of my childhood and a fraction of my adolescence wishing I could be as cool as that girl, independent of the booger-rolling-into-a-ball-naming-it-a-burger-and-placing-it-back-into-her-nose thing. I don't wish for my past to be different. But I do appreciate that the present allows me to examine things that happened and gives me the opportunity to say, "I'm glad I wasn't cool in that way."