I was far from the stereotypical girly-girl. Growing up in the vibrant 80s, I identified as a tomboy, but I always found that label somewhat limiting. I wasn’t boyish, just comfortable in my own skin, and that term never quite fit. Why wasn’t there a term like “tomgirl”?
Recess Adventures
During recess, I thrived in games of dodgeball with the boys. In Eugene, Oregon, back in 1981, we called it “slaughterball.” We’d dart across the playground, either chasing the ball or evading it, and when the competition heated up, you’d hear shouts of “Facial disgracial!” Occasionally, I’d join the girls on the monkey bars for some penny drops, but more often than not, I preferred the camaraderie of my male peers. When asked why I played with boys, I could only shrug; it just felt more natural.
Neighborhood Adventures
Home life was no different. Living on a quiet dead-end street, I often found myself in the company of neighborhood boys, congregating in the shared space between two houses. One of them had a slick black Darth Vader case for his Star Wars action figures, and we’d spread them out, crafting intricate battles along the stone wall and nestled beneath the lush rhododendrons. The only other girl in the area typically claimed Princess Leia, while I snagged the quirky extras from Buck Rogers, like Twiki and the dog.
Growing up as carefree kids with parents who believed in letting us roam, we played until the sun set, returning home dirty and hungry. My mom would usually be in the kitchen preparing another unique dish, often involving zucchini and cottage cheese. This was back when my family was still intact, just before my parents’ divorce loomed on the horizon.
“Did you have fun?” my mom would ask.
“Yeah, we played freeze tag and Star Wars. Can I watch TV?” I’d plead. She rarely denied me since getting to stay inside was a rare treat.
Magnum, P.I. Nights
Thursday evenings were sacred for me—Magnum, P.I. was a must-watch. I would eagerly anticipate the opening sequence, following T.C.’s striped helicopter with my eyes, feeling the rhythm of the upbeat theme music resonate in my veins. I’d sprawl on the brown and gold shag carpet by the fireplace, chin resting in my hands, waiting for the moment I would feel those familiar butterflies. I had to be glued to the screen when Tom Selleck turned towards me, eyebrows raised. And whenever he was shown with a bikini-clad woman, I could feel my cheeks flush. I was uncertain about why I adored the show so much, but one thing was clear: Magnum ignited a spark in me.
“Got a thing for Tom?” my dad would jest.
“Of course not!” I’d reply, rolling my eyes, all the while thinking, it’s Magnum, not Tom.
Reflecting on it now, I realize what drew me to him: he was a safe crush. There was no threat in lingering gazes, and the short shorts didn’t seem as scandalous back then. He embodied a charming mix of cute and quirky, and his playful banter with Higgins made him feel more like a lovable goof rather than an unattainable ideal. Although I didn’t yet grasp the feeling of inadequacy, I could imagine connecting with him. I felt free to enjoy my boyish attire and demeanor without fear of judgment. I could allow myself to swoon over those iconic eyebrows, that marvelous mustache, the Ferrari, and the thrilling idea of gliding through the waves with him in a sea kayak.
Yes, Magnum was my first crush, the one who truly pierced my tomboy heart. And he was quite the crush, indeed.
Further Reading
For more engaging stories, check out this post from our blog. If you’re considering starting a family and need resources, visit March of Dimes for valuable insights on fertility treatment. And if you’re looking for at-home insemination options, Cryobaby offers reliable syringe kits for your needs.
In summary, my childhood experience as a tomboy was filled with adventurous play and the innocent thrill of a crush on Magnum, P.I. It was a time when I felt free to embrace who I was, all while navigating the complexities of growing up.
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