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Coming back from the grocery store on Sunday afternoon, I saw a group of kids hanging around the front of a neighborhood as I drove past. They were all decked out in black, piercings, spikey hair, boots, the work. And yet it struck me how eerily similar they all looked–all boys, all wearing skinny black jeans, pretty much interchangeable.
It’s amazing how we want so hard to be different that we end up looking alike! It made me think of my 9th grade school picture. I was wearing my favorite puple and gray plaid “grunge” shirt over a purple baby tee. My hair was nearly blonde from being highlighted so often (looking at that picture is what has kept me from ever dying my hair with permanent dye again). That grunge shirt had allowed me to fit in with my little group in 8th grade…the shirt, the alternative radio station, and a certain love for all things smiley face.
On the first day of 9th grade, I wore that shirt. And I was too afraid to wear my matching puple nail polish, for fear I would seem too weird and NOT fit in with a new group of people. I went to a magnet school for high school, where I think I knew two souls before the first day of my freshman year. After a few days of the new school, I begged my parents to let me go back to my home school. My mom bribed me to stay with an outfit from the Limited.
This has all come flashing back as I’ve prepared to go to Blissdom this weekend. I don’t remember ever being so concerned about what I’m wearing before. It has skyrocketed to the point of ridiculous. I was nearly in tears Monday night as I can’t even find a shirt that I think fits well over the lovely nursing rack I got going on.
I spent so many years walking into a crowd of people assuming that everyone hated me unless proved otherwise. A few years of Paxil really helped that! And I feel I am more confident now, more of a woman. And yet the thought of wearing the wrong thing to a little cocktail party is enough to make me want to hide under the covers.
So, Blissdom, I’ll probably be wearing the wrong thing. I have no fashion sense. I am lumpy.
But I’m still the same Jessie who writes here. I think I’m a likeable person. I have a great smile that I think attracts people, and I will be wearing an adorable baby who will hide whatever I’m wearing underneath anyway!
It’s time to move on.