Junior High School is nobody's favorite memory. If I had a dollar for all the people who told me (while I was still wading through the pool of angry vipers that is Junior High School) that they wouldn't go back to Junior High School for one million dollars ... But the point is, there's no way. My parents were constantly having to say things to me like, "Oh, that extremely cute and generally very well-liked girl who you couldn't resemble any less will SURELY become a hairdresser in 10 years, at which point you'll just be completing your medical degree." This made me feel worse (did they really have to work so hard?) but I also believed them. And believe it or not, a few years ago I walked into the Dairy Queen that still sits across the street from the old Junior High in Papillion, Nebraska, and recognized the guy working behind the counter. His name was Paul. He had been in my junior high class for three years. He had been super cute and super stared at by all the cool girls and was amazing in sports. I ordered a blizzard and walked out. I felt terrible.
There were definitely kids who had it worse than I did. The first day of seventh grade, a short little guy named Keith showed up wearing a sweatshirt that said, "I'm a Little Husky." If that wasn't the illest thing to wear on your first day of class, by wearing it AGAIN on second day of class Keith pretty much wrote his own one-way ticket to social oblivion city for the next three years. At least he had the gift of cluelessness and couldn't tell that people were foaming at the mouth laughing at him. I'm still paranoid about the intricacies of popularity and when anybody on the street glances my way, I generally imagine that my face is paved with boogers.
Why rehearse this agony? My whole life I've wanted bangs. Everyone in Berlin has bangs. Today, I threw in the towel. I'm stepping out. Yes/no?
2 comments:
it's so odd, reading this blog and then clicking on the picture, there's the afterimage like venetian blinds (or whatever the horizontal ones are called). so i looked at the pic of you like some creepy voyeur, which i hope i'm not.
bangs: yes. but you always look good. you have a glorious forehead -- do people ever tell you that? (i had bangs when i was v. small, but in emulation of my much-idolized elder cousin (aka "perfect cousin jean"), i grew them out and never stopped, so obviously have different associations with them. but i am impressed by all the cool girls w/ bangs nowadays. wish my five year old self could see.
Bangs: Yes. Or, bangs: No. Majel: Yes. Definitely.
Post a Comment