From the time I was in the 5th grade, up until the end of high school, I was a social pariah. I was awkward, weird, and just plain odd. In two short years I went from a smiling bright happy girl, to a miserable angry person. I stayed that miserable angry person for many many years. My choices in clothes, in music, and in pretty much everything reflected what was popular. Well, as much as it could. We were poor.
Around the end of high school, like my last semester, it was as if someone cleared a film from my vision. I realized that I would no longer see these people every day. I cared nothing about them, and they cared nothing about me. That was the God’s honest truth, with the exception of a few people. I was done. I was free. I could be whoever and whatever I wanted to be.
Turns out being me isn’t anything fancy. I am a girly girl. I am smart, crafty, and nerdy. I am stylish. I have a wicked temper and a kind heart. If I am livid at you, I just won’t talk to you anymore. You have been deemed no longer worth my time.
All in all I think I turned out pretty good. I am confident and self aware. Sometimes though, it takes one comment to take me back down to where I was when I was younger. Usually it is from a ‘loved one trying to help.’
So I am sitting here, sad, pissed off, and hurt, by someone who is supposed to love me most. I’m sure I will be over it in a day or so, but for now, I am just going to sulk and be emo.
Ever since the birthday that wasn't I have been taking time out to do things for me. I usually make excuses though. I am at the end of the semester, and with five classes on my plate (one at a different school), I have to keep up. I hadn't done much to my hair in a while though, and so.. it was time. A couple of nights ago I pre-pooed my hair with coconut oil and walked around with that god awful processing cap on my head. You guys have no idea how much I hate that thing.
I worse it until it was time for bed. I then went to shower and co-washed my hair and detangled with the wide toothed shower comb. I got out the shower and combed through it again using a double toothed comb and moisturized my hair using Belle Butters matcha green tea butter. I threw my hair into 5 thick twists, put my bonnet on and hit the hay. The next morning, I did some homework, and watched "The Secret Life of the American Teenager. A little off subject, but do you watch this? Maybe I am getting old, but none of the guys are handsome. Ricky has a pompadour, and Ben is gawky. Jack is okay but he is a manwhore, and the one that Grace is seeing is wonky eyed. I am however in love with Adrian's eyebrows. They are shapely and well defined, and I am jealous.
I was an incredibly awkward teenager. I was (am) short, I was (am) fat, and I was (am) bookish. I played the clarinet, I read all the time, and you couldn't keep me from a computer. People tended to make fun of me as a result. A lot of the black girls in school made it their personal mission to make my life hell. I was miserable my freshman, sophmore, and junior year. By my senior year I had realized something. I was going places, and they would be stuck doing the same thing that they were always doing. This is pretty much true. Quite a few of them have not done a thing with their life. They are doing the same things they were doing while we were in high school, while I have moved on, stronger, wiser, and more confident in me. Sometimes though, niggling insecurities make their way back.
My husband and I had date night last night. We went and saw the Adjustment Bureau, and then went to eat at Scotty's Brewhouse. We were seated behind a group of black women with long straight hair down their backs. If you are on my Facebook page, you would know that I had two strand twisted my hair. I untwisted it, put in a headband and clipped in a flower. I felt cute.