The Different
When I was a kid, I was so weird. To this day I hope I wasn’t the only one that felt terribly out of place most of her childhood. Middle school was particularly disturbing. I was one of the first kids to have a growth spurt and with it came pimples, greasy hair and a more womanly body, which I had no idea what to do with for a while.
Somewhere in the middle of that mess, I embraced my quirkiness and flaunted it, sometimes too much. One of the popular boys made fun of my clothes, so the next day I purposely wore something even louder and threw it right back in his face. I gravitated toward the Spice Girls because I loved their attitudes, the confidence they exuded and the cheek they gave everyone. I felt powerful adopting the same concepts. If it weren’t for those ladies I don’t know what I would have done to deal with my own awkwardness. I was such a wannabe in high school everyone wished me luck on becoming the next Spice Girl. I already had the platform sneakers and pigtails, every Spicy imported CD single in my collection and bellybutton-baring shirts in my closet, which I’m sure my Mom worried about. I decided to create my own girl group and planned tryouts, but it all fizzled and my dream drifted away quickly much to my dismay, just like the Spice Girls themselves.
Despite the rise and fall of Girl Power, I retain my sass and showcase it intentionally on a regular basis. Some things change you inevitably, and my obsession certainly did. It helped me find my place amongst the jocks and preps and popular girls and band geeks and orchestra freaks and allowed me to survive a bit easier for a while.
I used to think that age would bring balance and the segregation and cliques would magically disappear because mature people have no need for such nonsense. What I didn’t realize was the need to be accepted, liked, adored and respected doesn’t diminish, and in some ways intensifies as we get older. I thought I’d fit in easier, which I was also wrong about. I still stick out like a sore thumb in some crowds and it’s terribly apparent when I’m totally out of my element.
There is one thing I’ve learned, and it’s that attitude has everything to do with fitting in. It’s the difference between approaching the unknown as a pessimist or an optimist, dreading the dark or running into it head-on, totally ready to take whatever it throws at you. I have to remind myself every day to think like an optimist, to not be afraid, to throw myself, my real self, toward everyone with gusto and enthusiasm and confidence and perkiness.
When it comes to everyone else, I have fond memories of those jocks and preps and many others regardless of how they were labeled. Plenty of us had no idea we fell into a certain social category. I certainly didn’t think of myself as a dorky band/orchestra/choir girl, but I’m sure lots of kids thought that’s what I was. Who made those lists anyway?
So here’s to the former cheerleaders and honor society kids, people who were so quiet they were never labeled, so smart they were made fun of and so cute they could do no wrong. To the others who feel like they still don’t fit in, like me, here’s to being different. It’s all good. It makes us the same.
Somewhere in the middle of that mess, I embraced my quirkiness and flaunted it, sometimes too much. One of the popular boys made fun of my clothes, so the next day I purposely wore something even louder and threw it right back in his face. I gravitated toward the Spice Girls because I loved their attitudes, the confidence they exuded and the cheek they gave everyone. I felt powerful adopting the same concepts. If it weren’t for those ladies I don’t know what I would have done to deal with my own awkwardness. I was such a wannabe in high school everyone wished me luck on becoming the next Spice Girl. I already had the platform sneakers and pigtails, every Spicy imported CD single in my collection and bellybutton-baring shirts in my closet, which I’m sure my Mom worried about. I decided to create my own girl group and planned tryouts, but it all fizzled and my dream drifted away quickly much to my dismay, just like the Spice Girls themselves.
Despite the rise and fall of Girl Power, I retain my sass and showcase it intentionally on a regular basis. Some things change you inevitably, and my obsession certainly did. It helped me find my place amongst the jocks and preps and popular girls and band geeks and orchestra freaks and allowed me to survive a bit easier for a while.
I used to think that age would bring balance and the segregation and cliques would magically disappear because mature people have no need for such nonsense. What I didn’t realize was the need to be accepted, liked, adored and respected doesn’t diminish, and in some ways intensifies as we get older. I thought I’d fit in easier, which I was also wrong about. I still stick out like a sore thumb in some crowds and it’s terribly apparent when I’m totally out of my element.
There is one thing I’ve learned, and it’s that attitude has everything to do with fitting in. It’s the difference between approaching the unknown as a pessimist or an optimist, dreading the dark or running into it head-on, totally ready to take whatever it throws at you. I have to remind myself every day to think like an optimist, to not be afraid, to throw myself, my real self, toward everyone with gusto and enthusiasm and confidence and perkiness.
When it comes to everyone else, I have fond memories of those jocks and preps and many others regardless of how they were labeled. Plenty of us had no idea we fell into a certain social category. I certainly didn’t think of myself as a dorky band/orchestra/choir girl, but I’m sure lots of kids thought that’s what I was. Who made those lists anyway?
So here’s to the former cheerleaders and honor society kids, people who were so quiet they were never labeled, so smart they were made fun of and so cute they could do no wrong. To the others who feel like they still don’t fit in, like me, here’s to being different. It’s all good. It makes us the same.
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