I was a twerp in the 8th grade. I weighed in at a wopping 90 lbs and was patiently awaiting puberty as it still hadn’t happened for me. So while all the other girls were sporting bras because they needed them, I wore one simply because I wanted to need one.
I was so naive at thirteen. Didn’t smoke, drink, swear, ditch school or break the law, especially the laws at home as set out by my parents. Coming from an Italian background, my parents were a bit on the strict side. I never assumed I could do anything. I always had to ask permission and I always had a curfew.
For the first two years of high school, I did the most ridiculous things with my hair. Perm, short cut, Sun-In … need I say more? My 8th grade photo shows me looking like a poodle and my 9th grade photo shows off my bleached orange/red hair. Lovely, I know.
I was a good student. I studied and worked hard for good marks. Never gave my teachers any trouble. Never really disappointed my parents until I failed Algebra 10. That was another story.
I had my fair share of crushes throughout my five years in high school. Those who know me well will remember Jarret, Joey and Jim. Gee, ya think I have something going with the J names or what? Guess what letter my hubby’s name begins with? J, of course!
I wasn’t in the popular crowd. I wasn’t a nerd. I wasn’t a rocker. I wasn’t an athlete. I was ME – kinda middle of the row. I liked and pretty much got along with everyone. Girls confided in me their deepest feelings and emotions over guys they loved and guys came to me to help them get the attention of girls they liked. Most of the time, I was the go-between.
I played volleyball in tenth grade, was a part of the Grad Fashion Show as a senior and attended all school-related dances, events and activities. I even went to weekend parties with friends where I saw a lot of my friends drink and make fools of themselves. It’s what teenagers in high school did back then and still do now. I just chose not to. Or maybe it was because if I did, my parents would have imprisoned me behind home bars. Yeah, that’s probably closer to the truth.
In eleventh grade, my closest friends were involved in a car accident. One friend broke her foot, the other her hand, one had scratches/cuts across her face and one friend ended up with a spinal cord injury. All this because the driver had been drinking. Luckily, my parents grounded me that night and I was unable to go out. Otherwise, God knows what would have happened to me. Possibly, dead.
The story of my life in high school was that boys I liked were interested in other girls and boys that liked me were just not my type. So I never really had a boyfriend in high school unless you count “going out” with someone for the period of lunch, relationship material. I found out shortly after lunch that the same boy who had asked me out had also asked out one of my good friends earlier that day and was rejected. I just don’t do 2nd best, mkay … so I broke up with his sorry ass after our 45 minute lunch-period relationship.
High school was an interesting time. I had many friends and have fond memories of the times we spent hanging out together. It was a period of discovery and trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to be. I was a pretty genuine and down to earth person and saw the positive in everyone who crossed my path. If my memory serves me correct, I was mean to one girl until I made her cry. I stopped teasing her after that. Not so nice me, I know. I would apologize to her if I ran in to her today. No one has the right to make anyone’s life miserable.
I’ve kept my list pretty tame and lacking in juicy detail simply because my 13 yr old daughter reads my blog and she doesn’t need to know, ahem, everything her Mom did in high school!
It’s all good Teen B.
Just like your Mama wants YOU to be!