The Perks of Being a Panda

The first time someone called me panda was in sixth grade.

He wasn’t technically right, since my goggle tan left pale white rings around my eyes instead of black, but who was I to judge? I probably only knew what pandas looked like because they were printed on the wrapper of every fortune cookie I ever ate.

(And when bear-patterned cellophane is all that stands between you and the edible vessel carrying all of life’s secrets, you tend to notice these things).

My nonchalant 11-year-old self thought, “Hm, you’re (kinda) right” and I embraced the nickname, signing yearbooks that summer with a small “reverse panda” sketch. Luckily, this observation came before I developed adolescent sensitivity (a.k.a. crippling teenage self-consciousness), or I’d probably be writing a very different story.

The follow summers, I proudly sported my tan lines as a testament to the hard work and long hours I put into the pool. It was a cute quirk to my non-swimmer friends and somehow spread to my chlorine comrades as well. Before I know it, pandas grew into the “thing” I was known for:

Friends would buy me panda stickers, panda stuffed animals, panda-themed snacks and clothes. They would send me panda pictures from when they traveled abroad or near home with notes that read: “Thought of you” or “Found this :)” or just “Panda!”

It was overwhelming…and yet, it was incredibly endearing. Before I knew it, my panda-monium had taken on a meaning of its own.

I started liking pandas for their cute and clumsy natures. I loved that they represented a symbol of international collaboration and peace despite being so evolutionarily dumb that they’re on the verge of extinction. I thought the symbolism of balanced elements – black and white, yin and yang – was so meaningful in some abstract way.

But most of all, I embodied the panda mantra because it kept me close to the people I cared about.

Every gift or text or nickname told me that my friends had kept me in the back of their minds. They had associated this pathetically adorable yet completely arbitrary animal with me. I was who they thought of when they watched videos of these odd-colored bears roll around on their heads. Me…essentially just a stranger (a little stranger than most) who had happened to meet them based on circumstance and coincidence, and then even more surprisingly, happened to build a bond.

It made me realize that I held a special panda place in their hearts, no matter how small. It made me realize that I was cherished.

And if you’re thinking, “Wow, Cara, that is digging waaay too deep. This isn’t AP Literature where we gotta find meaning in every character interaction. I just heard you liked pandas so I thought I’d send you a pictur-” WRONG.

STOP RIGHT THERE.

See that?

You thought of me. Not of that drunk guy who bit a panda in Bejing. Not of the the 25-pound pile of bamboo poop that pandas excrete daily.

Of me.

So I thank you for that.

Thank you for thinking of me, for befriending me, and for loving me…even if that wasn’t your intent. You impacted my life for the better, and I’ll never forget that.

And to all you panda-haters out there (all one of you), I have nothing to say. Because if you don’t like pandas, you probably aren’t human and wouldn’t understand me anyway.

To everyone else, please keep making the world a more panda pawesome place.

(Oh man, that pun was un-bearable.)

(I guess I’ll just leaf now.)

(Okay, I’m done.)