Longest Blogging Break Ever

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Yearly blogging break does not mean take a year off of blogging does it? Oops…

I know, I know. Blogging 101 says that you should be consistent. That a successful blog should at least write once a week. I was doing ok for a while, but then I wasn’t. It has been a weird year, a year where I questioned a lot of stuff in my life. Like what direction I was headed as a writer, or whatever you want to call me. The most annoying thing about myself is my tendency to beat myself up and second-guess every decision. I could make a career out of doing that, an official second-guesser. Is that a thing?  Well, it should be because I would be awesome and get lots of awards from the award giving people.

Anyways…

I started this blog as a therapeutic way to rehash some of my most awkward moments. I am still awkward as hell. It is one thing that hasn’t changed even though I am vastly approaching my third decade on this planet. I always thought my awkwardness would fade when I became an official adult.  All this adulting has done nothing for my unbearably awkward syndrome (its a condition, look it up).

Just the other day, I fell near the entrance of a local grocery store. Who falls trying to complete a simple task like grabbing a shopping cart? Me. That’s who. Did I mention it was in front of several people? One of which was a tiny older woman, who squealed when I flew backwards. Her yelp created an even larger audience to see the aftermath of my fight with Gravity. What a b word. Gravity, not the little old lady.

I don’t even know if I have an audience on this blog anymore.  I have possible lost the five or so followers I had.  Who cares. Its nice to be back.

When the “love of your life” is just the worst…

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mostly because he is an a**hole.

Everything was changing.  It was like my body was a stranger that I had to awkwardly face every day.  When did I get boobs?  They seemingly grew overnight from an A cup to a C.  My thighs went from stick thin to curvy; I had to abandon my favorite pair of jeans after that.  The only thing that seemed to stick was the pudginess around my stomach that my Mom lovingly called “baby fat.”  She would constantly remind me that I would be stuck with that fat for a while.  It was part of a “Thomas Women” curse.   Apparently all of my changes were similar to my mother’s side.  “We are just built that way,” my mother pointed out. It seemed so unfair that some girls were lucky enough to have those boyish thin figures while my body couldn’t decide what it had.  I wasn’t classically curvy, not plus size, but not thin. I was completely average and at the time I thought it was the worst thing I could be.

 By the time I reached eighth grade I had gotten used to my chest size, my thighs, and my “baby fat.”  At that point, being invisible had its perks.  There was a still a small part of me that wanted every boy to notice me like they did Denise Dalton*.  The queen bee, who at one point a long time ago (We’re talking 5th grade), was my best friend.   Puberty had done her way too many favors, which apparently left the rest of the girls in my grade with nothing. There were girls who were even more awkward then I was (which is saying a hell of a lot.) Their bodies had betrayed them way worse than mine ever could. These girls would get noticed by boys too, but were ridiculed for their “imperfections.” I thought myself lucky, that I was practically invisible to that kind of public shaming.

 It was almost Spring of my eighth grade year and I was in a good place.  I had stop being so boy crazy due to recent events that proved that I was not equipped to handle a boyfriend.  Sure, I still had crushes.  My hormones proved to be stronger then my brain in these cases. Jack* had, of course, broken up with my good friend Jenny* and had moved on to several other girls.  His latest victim was Janet*, a newer classmate who had become an acquaintance to my small group of friends.  He had broken her heart and she was less than thrilled with it.

 Over their two-week courtship, Jack had done a lot of talking.  Spilling secrets to her about his previous girlfriends.  Janet in an act of revenge, held nothing back, telling every girl how Jack felt about her.  How April*, his first girlfriend, was a stuck up prude.  Or even how much Breanna Morris* wasn’t. They were all reasons why he eventually broke up with them.  Sometimes even for ridiculous reasons like, Kayla’s (the curvy seventh grader) hairy man arms.  The insults didn’t stop at just his girlfriends. He even went into reasons why he didn’t date certain girls.  Starting with his number one fan, me.

 It was bad news, when Janet came strolling by my table at lunch.  The look of concern had taken over her usual smile, like she was going to tell me that my dog had died. She sat down, unraveling a story that would change me forever.  She started with the fact that she thought I was one of prettiest and nicest girls at this school.  (I was one of the first to talk to her when she moved mid school year.) One day she had asked Jack why he had never went out with me, she of course, hearing the rumor that I was deeply in love with him. He replied with,  “I guess she is pretty, but she kind of has a beer belly.” It took a second for my brain to comprehend what was said.  A beer belly?  A BEER BELLY?  I knew what it meant, even though, at the ripe age of thirteen, my “baby fat” did not come from having one too many.

 After hearing those words, I was crushed.  My best friend Anna* went into a full rage. She knew how much I pictured Jack as a perfect specimen.  How, even though he had crushed by heart repeatedly, I had never given up on him. I had to practically pin her down from going over and clawing out his eyes in the middle of the lunchroom.  Janet hugged me and apologized, saying he was dead wrong about me.  She quickly left the table, continuing her campaign to killing Jack’s reputation.

 The rest of the day, I obsessed over those words.  I went from blaming him to even blaming myself for being so imperfect. Being comfortable with my body was no longer an option.  I knew that it was only a matter of time before the whole school saw me as “beer belly girl.”  After that I spent a good year and half trying my best to lose weight. Jack’s words echoing in my head with every sit-up I attempted.  During class, I would wrap a sweater around my stomach hoping that it would make it seem smaller.  I was still invisible, but no longer content with what I saw in the mirror.

 Those words festered into my mind and I still haven’t been able to completely wipe them out. They sometimes return to taunt me whenever I eat something unhealthy or if my jeans have become a bit too tight.  Even after so much time, the whole situation changed how I looked at my body.  It confirmed the bad things I thought about myself, because I knew I wasn’t the only one who noticed them.  I think back and see this moment as the day that created my low-self esteem and it is hard to get rid of.  I spent half my life striving to be perfect, only to realize that I have wasted a lot of time caring about what others thought.

 It shouldn’t be a surprise that I finally gave up on Jack.  I thought I loved him, but he continually crushed my heart. Now as a grown woman, I look back and have learned a valuable lesson.  I shouldn’t let anyone make me feel like I am not good enough.  I shouldn’t waste my time on a “dream guy” who doesn’t think of me as his “dream girl”.  A guy who doesn’t even care about the consequences of his actions. Who doesn’t care about hurting the only girl who thought he was perfect.

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*Names have been changed because the real names don’t matter.

The Invisible Sister Gets Her First Stalker

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…and awkwardly deals with it. 

At the age of thirteen, I was convinced that I wasn’t pretty and that was the only reason boys didn’t like me. Obsessing over the fact that I wasn’t as skinny as the more popular girls or that my mom didn’t let me wear as much make up. Junior high can be hell when you live to impress your peers. It wasn’t until a mysterious high school freshman took notice of me that I realized that the boys in my grade might take my complete awkwardness into consideration.

Going to a K-12 school is an interesting experience. It is a strange environment that produces situations like third graders passing through a busy hallway, designated for high school seniors, on their way to recess. The section of the building reserved for junior high students was a little more secluded. Most of the older kids were strangers to me. My brother and his friends were all juniors, but they mostly ignored me if I passed them in the hallway. My brother was more popular than I was. So much, that most of the high school barely knew I existed. One day, during volleyball practice, I noticed two older boys hanging around. One of them, a boy with dark eyes and blonde buzz cut, kept staring at me. Him and his friend kept whispering back and forth, occasionally pointing at me and the other girls. My mind directly went to the fact that I wasn’t very athletic and he was probably trying to figure out how I made the team. They were certainly mocking me and I their presence distracted me. Eventually they left and I quickly forgot about them as I tried to focus on not sucking at volleyball.

“Tim Stockton* just winked at you!” Cas* giggled. It was a couple of days later and we were in the library doing research for history class. At the same time, a class of freshmen students was studying in the same area. That day, I learned that the mysterious boy’s name was Tim Stockton from my friend who just about everyone in our small school. I had caught him staring again and was trying my best to ignore it. My friend Cas noticed and decided to make fun of me for it. “He must totally like you!” she chuckled, as I tried to cover her mouth. She was not following the strict rules of the library, practically shouting for all to hear. Cas was dead wrong. There was no way that Tim liked me. Even if he did, I wasn’t so sure that I liked him. I barely knew who the kid was.

After school, Tim and his friend Bobby were back spectating the eighth grade girl’s volleyball practice. Every time I briefly glanced over at his direction, he greeted me with a wide, goofy smile. It made my stomach turn. Ok, maybe he did have a crush on me OR he was playing some sort of joke. I was just some random homely looking girl that he wanted to pull a prank on. Yeah, that seemed more reasonable. After practice, Cas and I waited in front of the school for our parents when Tim and Bobby walked by. “I just wanted to tell you, you are the most gorgeous girl I have ever seen!” Tim shouted in front of half my volleyball team. My face turned bright red. This amount of attention was too much. Instead of ignoring it, I giggled. I couldn’t stop giggling and couldn’t form a response back. The only thing I could think to do was turn around and face the brick wall I had been leaning on. Both the guys chuckled as they walked past. I stood frozen there for what seemed like hours before my dad’s car pulled up to save me. Cas and the rest of girls couldn’t hold in their laughter. I hopped into my dad’s car quickly realizing that if my parents let me, I would never go to school again.

The next few days, I saw Tim everywhere, he would smile or say something about how gorgeous I was. My reaction would always be turning bright red. From my response, Tim must have thought I liked the attention. In reality, I hated it. I just wanted it to stop. If it wasn’t Tim turning me bright red, my friends would, by poking fun at how I was too shy to talk to boys. Like they were any better. Eventually I got so sick of all of it that I avoided him, bracing every corner of the school as if I was stealthy ninja trying not be detected. When that didn’t work, I would just completely pretend like he wasn’t there. At times I felt bad, but at the same, it seemed like he enjoyed embarrassing me.

Over time, Tim Stockton was no longer a problem. I gladly returned to being that invisible girl that boys seemed to ignore. My friends never got why I didn’t just accept his praise because, to them, it could have lead to more.  Well, frankly, I didn’t want to be the girlfriend of a guy who gets off tormented girls into liking him.  I never really knew why he stopped seeking me out. Maybe he finally got the message that I didn’t like him.  Maybe he found some other girl to stalk. Or, Maybe he found out that I was the little sister of a very large and intimidating junior guy with angry issues.

Finally saying “Hi” to my brother in the crowded hallway, while Tim watched nearby, was a great plan.

The end of the year, the start of ‘THE BLACK PAGES’

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…sounds ominous…but it really isn’t.

A lot of things had happened in the months after the Halloween dance. After getting saturday detention for being the “ring leaders” of the bathroom war, Anna* and I were seen as resident badasses. It was the furthest from the truth in my case, but I loved the newfound attention that the ‘bad girl’ status gave me. Towards the end of November I once again became obsessed with becoming Jack’s* girlfriend. So obsessed that Anna and I resorted to three-way calling him nightly.

I was, of course, to chicken to talk to him. Anna would call and ask him about his thoughts on me, while I listened intensely with the mute button on. Mostly our little calls backfired because he would say something slightly hurtful like how he thought I was strange and hyper. He followed up, in his slightly raspy voice, that he did think I was sort of pretty.  All I got from the conversation was, OMG! JACK THINKS I AM PRETTY! I dropped the ‘sort of’ in my head because…I was stupid.   I was oblivious to the fact that he was just trying to be nice. Nope, I thought he loved me.

I was getting tired of waiting for Jack to ask me out. I wasn’t just being naive about his feelings, but there was actually a steady rumor going around that he was finally going to ask me. After months of unrequited torture it was going to happen. I filled my journal with all the possibilities of us as a junior high power couple. How, with Jack on my arm, everyone would know who I was. Not really thinking that given his past track record, our relationship probably wouldn’t last more than a couple of weeks. I convinced myself that we were meant to be.

One night, I had finally had enough waiting. During another one of our three-way calls, Anna demanded to know why Jack hadn’t ‘popped the question’. He mumbled something about how he had to focus on his upcoming wrestling season and that he wasn’t going to go out with anyone. The disappointment hit me right in my heart, but it quickly went away because I was the glass half full type girl. Jack said he wasn’t going to go out with anyone, meaning I would just wait for him.  I mean wrestling season was only a couple months long and I could wait. Instead of being mad, I respected his focus on athletics. It only made me obsess over him more. That was until I learned about Kayla.

Within the month Jack had started going out with Kayla, a peppy seventh grader with the body of a tenth grader. So much for wrestling season, I thought to myself. Not only had Jack bypassed me, but apparently he had bypassed the rest of the eighth grade girls and moved on to the younger ones. I started to grasp the reality of my situation. Jack never wanted to go out with me and he probably felt sorry for me. I was over it. The school wasn’t.

The rumors of my obsession with him spread around until it was full public knowledge. So quickly I went from badass ring leader to crazy stalker girl. I kept my head up in public, but honestly it was hard to avoid my feelings in my quiet bedroom. I resorted to spewing all my feelings in what was left of my Lisa Frank Journal.

After so many blows a girl has to do something to keep what is left of her dignity. On New Year’s Eve, I vowed that I was over being treated the way Jack treated me. I had new goals and better yet, I had a new journal. The spiral bound black pages would help me get over my heartbreak and into the new millennium.

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*Names have been changed because….just because, who cares?

A HORROR-ible night to remember…

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Sometimes I miss being so incredibly naive and hopeful like I was when I was thirteen. Watching too many romantic teen comedies gave me a false sense of how things worked in the real world. Like that one night or one party could change my luck. The luck I was looking for the boy of my dreams to notice me. Not just notice me but fall in love with me. Like I said, I was naive.

It was October and my friend Sara announced she was going to have a Halloween party at her house. If my life were a movie, it would have been Sixteen Candles. Jack* would have been my Jake Ryan. Most days I felt just as invisible to the whole world as Molly Ringwald did. I only wish that the boy would notice me.

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For the past month, I had been pretty bummed about the Jack situation. I felt like he didn’t notice me and if he did it was because I was that “weird girl” in his science class. He had been dating April*. She was pretty and nice which was a rare combination in junior high. I never had a problem with her until I saw her sitting on Jack’s lap one night.

Anna* and I decided to get some fresh air one night during the high school basketball game when we noticed them and another couple practically making out on the swings. It scared me. I wrote in my journal that night declaring that I was “afraid to grow up in a world of sex” and that Jack “made me sick!” (Lisa Frank Journal).

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After that, I tried to accept the fact that Jack was too advanced for me, and I should just let our love go.

Ok, I let it go for about a week. I kept writing about how I wanted to find a new boy to make Jack jealous, but it never happened. My second plan was to make April unpopular, but I didn’t know how to manipulate an entire eighth class into hating one of the prettiest girls in school. Eventually, I gave into the idea that maybe they were meant to be. I overestimated the seriousness of a typical preteen relationship.

A couple of days before the Halloween party the rumor broke out that Jack and April broke up. At the time, it was one of the happiest moments of my life. It was fate, I thought. That day I came up with a fool-proof plan to win Jack’s heart.

First things first, I needed a killer costume. Being only thirteen I had never dressed “sexy” for Halloween, but this year was going to be different. My idea of sexy was, of course, wearing tons of makeup and looking girly. I just wanted to look different, look prettier. I begged my parents to drive me the twenty minutes to the city to buy the best costume I could find. The costume store had been raided, but I ended up finding a red “saloon girl” dress. The day of the party I got self-conscious of trying to intentionally look pretty. I panicked and ended up changing my costume to “zombie saloon girl”.

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The second part of the plan was a bit flawed. I would ask Jack to dance and not just Jack, but other boys. I was going to make Jack jealous. I thought if he saw other boys taking an interest then he would be interested. I never took into consideration that other girls would be coming up with fool-proof plans.

Come Saturday night, someone was going to be Jack’s girlfriend. It just wasn’t me.

To be continued…

*Names have been changed because I don’t want to be sued for defamation. ☺

Naked Lesbian dances with your BFF.

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News travels fast in junior high. One minute you are in German class trying your best to connect with a couple of slightly popular girls. You gab over hilarious stories of being nerds with your friends. You tell one story silly story about putting glow stars all over your body and dancing around in your pitch-dark bedroom and the lesbian rumors are in full effect by afternoon gym class.

First of all it should be noted that I didn’t realize I had an arch nemesis in seventh grade. Her name was Breanna Morris* and apparently it was her life’s mission to make mine miserable. At the time of this alleged story I had no idea that she hated me. I didn’t think anyone had any opinion of me. I mostly kept to my small group of friends and generally felt invisible to the whole school. I thought of myself as being too average to even be noticed, let alone hated.

Yet she did hate me for some reason. The only reason I could figure out was the fact that I beat her out of a spot for Youth Honor Choir in sixth grade. I remember a rumor spreading after the fact that I wasn’t even that good of a singer, but our music teacher felt sorry for me. Sorry for what? Who knows? The rumor didn’t make sense, but what do you expect out of twelve-year-old girl.  It wasn’t long until I figured out that Breanna had spread the rumor around. This new rumor reeked of the same nonsensical details of the first one.

In German class, I had told a table including Breanna that my best friend Sara* and I were bored one night during a sleepover at my house. Our boredom was mixed with Top 40 radio of the late 90’s and a package of unused glow stars (Do they still sell those things? All I know was that the walls in my room was covered in them and it was AWESOME!). We were having our own personal rave without the added supplements (We were high on life, or not having one). We were having goofy innocent fun and Sara*, being the hilarious girl she was, decided to kick it up a notch by putting two small glow stars on her chest as if they were her nipples. This was the funniest part of my story and the girls in German class seemed to agree.

My story was a hit! I spent most of the day glowing in my triumph of relating to more girls my age.  I was no longer the shy and awkward girl. Instead I was the hilarious girl, who told great stories. The feeling lasted all but four hours. Throughout the day I kept getting looks from various peers in my class. I chalked it up to the fact that most of them heard how awesomely hilarious I was. Some of the boys that generally ignored me where making actual eye contact and even smiling at me!

By afternoon gym class I was feeling pretty good about myself. Then my new world was crushed and I wanted to crawl under the nearest rock. One of my close friends, Cass* brought me down to reality.

“Is it true that you and Sara were doing naked lesbian dances with glow stars all over your body in your bedroom?” She asked.

I was shocked, first of all what the HELL were “naked lesbian dances”? Second, who even mentioned being naked?

At the exact moment I realized that all the smiles and direct eye contact were actually snickers at my expense. The worst part was that the only other person that could truly say what really went on in my bedroom, Sara, was out sick with the flu.

When I found out who started the rumor (Breanna), I didn’t do anything about it. I was too embarrassed and wanted the whole thing to blow over and eventually it did. Yet when you go to such a small school and live in an equally small town it is hard to live that stuff down. Just another reason to not let your kids go to a K-12 school folks!

The most awkward part? Having to call Sara after school and say, “So apparently we are Lesbos who like to do naked star dances…hope your feeling better, bye.”

*Names were changed because their real names weren’t as good.