Goodbye Elementary School, hello Puberty!

With 6th grade came stirrup pants, big shirts and Kung Fu shoes. And so did my boobs. That was fun. I kept my arms perpetually bent upward to block any view one might have of my new lumps. That was until a classmate sporting B's came along mid-year. Suddenly my A's weren't so bad.

7th grade I got my first permanent. I went to class each morning with near-dripping-wet hair so I'd have "curls", then they'd dry and I'd finish the day with unruly frizz. I was no longer the girl who steps on her Trapper Keeper; I was the girl with the wet hair.

I had a couple close friends, a handful of cool kids that I wished were my friends, and then there were the classmates I hated and avoided at all costs. I also had "after school friends". The friends that you don't talk to at school because you'd rather die than let the cool kids find out you were playing Memory with Susie Smarty Pants on her bedroom floor. Yea. So what.

And then, the mother of all horrific things to happen to a girl in her 12th year of life, happened.

In 8th grade I had my first real secret crush. He was in my first period English class. His mother would drop him off early in the morning forcing him to sit outside class waiting for class to begin. I also managed to get dropped off early. I never said a word to him the entire year. After all, crushes aren't supposed to know you exist. Instead, I blushed at the sight of him, prayed to sit next to him, smelled him as he passed, and doodled his name all over my Pee Chee folder.

The night before the first day of the 9th grade, I sat up trying to perfect my new look. All it really required was half a can of Aqua Net, some black eyeliner and clear lip gloss. I carried the look through all of 9th grade and half of 10th grade before I stopped caring. Then I became the grungy rocker girl, with even fewer friends.

Nothing major happened in High School. I played no sports, I was in no band, no smart kid clubs, no after school clubs, nothing. I just walked around in my torn flannel shirt, Vans and "leave me alone" attitude until Grad Nite, when I wore a dress. And platform shoes. All night. At Disneyland. While on my period.

Community College didn't last long with me. Near the end of my first semester I took a part time job after classes and got my very first paycheck. That was way more interesting than Business 101 or Math would ever be, for me. With a paycheck, I was unstoppable.

Shortly after turning 19, I got my first car. Two months later, I wrecked it.

After spending my first twenty years of life in beautiful, sunny Southern California, I moved away from home for the first time. Far, far away from home. To a horrible little town in Wisconsin. I was no football fan, no fan of farming, no lover of all cheeses known to man, and sure as hell is hot, no fan of snow. Six months later I came home.

When I turned 21, I did what most 21 year old girls do, I ordered my very first Strawberry Daiquiri, and chased it with my very first Pina Colada.

The fun was yet to be had.