Becoming Big Cheese

I was twelve years old and I had met the finest woman on earth.

 I believe she was 15 and she was bad to me. 

She had dimples in her cheeks.

 She was bowlegged and slightly pigeon-toed.

 The way she wore her Gloria Vanderbilts is the way they were meant to be worn. 

Her name was Malika and she was friends with my older sister.

Every time I saw her, I borrowed extra teeth to smile even bigger.

See, I was related to 99.5% of the girls at my school. 

In fact, I lived in a town of 1200 people and I believe I was related to like, 1199 of them! 

Malika was a rare gem.

 A diamond amongst a sea of misshapen pearls. 

 Not only was she pretty with her light hazel eyes, and cinnamon complexion, she was from Ohio so she was exotic. 

At least to me in my small corner of Mississippi.

One of the most embarrassing pictures of me in existence anywhere is of me in an airbrushed muscle shirt trying to impress Malika.  

While I worked out for football, Malika is who drove me to become a gym rat. I wanted to be comic book fine so that she wouldn't be able to resist. 

Whenever she came to visit my sister I would channel my inner Bond. 

I loved to hear her talk. 

To hear slang that we didn't really use in M Mississippi.

Of course, I had no idea how big a fool I was making of myself.  

Like all little boys, I wasn't ready to understand that the guy who gives the girls all their attention, is definitely not the one the girls want. 

I made certain that this Nubian Goddess saw me at every turn. 

I started paying extra attention to my hair, and my breath.

I watched The Mack, Dolemite, even Lady Sings the Blues. The brothers in those movies were suave and I wanted some of that. 

After months of unrequited affection, Malika gave me something I still have not completely been able to get rid of and I'm not so sure if I ever will. 

That's right, she gave me my nom de Guerre. 

It was at a basketball game. 

It wasn't one of the after-school games that got only the player's families to attend. 

This game was during school hours and you could get out of class, and show your school spirit. 

I had recently experienced a growth spurt and could wear my older brothers jeans. I used his Levi's to expand my own battered and piteous wardrobe. So I show up at the game and I looked around desperately. 

Their she was. Sitting by Nathan my Prince look-alike cousin, and his friend Keith, whom my sister was crushing on. 

I needed her attention. She needed to notice me.   

So I yelled across the gym, I guess I figured to distract her and somehow keep her from going for the pretty boy. 

My voice chose that moment to crack "Hey Malika!" I yelled my juvenile vocal cords rebelling and making me sound like someone abusing a feline. 

She saw me waving like a simpleton, and flashing 38 teeth. 

Her next words echoed so loudly that they changed my life.

"Hey, Big Cheese!" Malika waved and yelled from across the room. 

The entire school heard it. 

It still might not have stuck if my reaction to the nickname had not been so severe. 

Malika could have called me anything and it would have been okay.  

Everyone else wasn't so lucky. 

In fact when my male classmates would say "What up doe, Big Cheese."

 I would let them know in no uncertain terms...

"Aye, my name Mike bruh" 

I beat up and threatened to beat up anyone who used that name.

 I guess it stuck because I hated it so much, and a few years later I was introducing myself as "Big Cheese." When I finally asked Malika why she called me that her answer was "Cause every time I see you, you be cheesing all hard.