In high school I was generally ambivalent about my looks. I'd taken inventory. I wasn't thrilled, but it was futile to sweat it. I was all elbows and forehead, not a curve to be found. My hair was flat. I wasn't coordinated enough to roller-skate, whistle, or do a proper cartwheel, much less play a sport.
It was mostly alright with me.
But those days would come around, the ones where I'd feel certain that I was a hopeless case. I'd pray for a make-over. I'd sneak glances at the skinny alto over on the second riser and wish for her, uh, "curves". I'd pray that the phone would just ring, dangit.
Have mercy, this poor 7th grader, with her shoulder-padded mock-neck (my mom's) and the Ogilvie home perm. My locket is backwards. If memory serves me, my mom let me spritz a little White Shoulders on for the occasion. (FYI, White Shoulders is not the boyfriend-magnet you might imagine...)
I practiced smiles in the mirror and this was the hands-down winner. If
you want to copy-cat it, just roll your upper lip all the way under to
bare your gums and stretch your cheeks back to expose your molars. (Not
sure what to tell you about the missing eye-tooth.)
Maybe I'd never be the Homecoming Queen, but progress had been made.
Twenty-five years later, the picture still helps on a rough day, if I'm being honest. Also, it makes Cory snort and then very patronizingly say, "Oh, Honey..."
What was your most awkward stage? Paint me a picture, Sister.