Before starting this post, I told my old high school friends that I was writing a piece on why I wasn’t cool in high school, and asked if they had any memorable stories or moments that really backed up that point. The majority of them responded like this:
You should JUST post a picture of yourself from freshman year!!!!!!!! And then just like, be done with the post!
(A warm shout-out to all my loving, kind, dear friends.)
And this all actually got me really sad, and really kind of disappointed in our high school selves.
I went to a private high school in Newport Beach, CA (which is right next to Laguna Beach, AKA land of the genetically blessed). How you looked, how you dressed and how you carried yourself obviously had a big impact on your popularity. Anyway, I could rant on and on about the problems I had in high school, but you all came here for the dirty deets. So here are some three good, solid reasons why I was not at all “cool” in high school.
I thought I was edgy. Like Agyness Deyn/Alexa Chung edgy.
Note what my high school friends said.
After nurturing and cultivating the growth of my long, luscious brown/red locks (Sun-In, anybody?) over the summer of eighth grade (summer of ‘09, no regrets), I chopped it all off, pixie style. Pre-haircut, I still remember the hairstylist tossing back her green and aqua hair and adjusting her piercings as if she was about to embark on a serious, serious mission. She gathered all of my hair into a ponytail, snipped it off, and proceeded to buzz the back of my head. In that moment, I was starry-eyed with all the deeper meanings: wow this is like a modern day tabula rasa, and wow, I’m now a cool, rebellious high school student that doesn’t care what anybody else thinks, and wow okay, the back of my neck is kind of cold now. You know how when you get a haircut and people notice, they do the classic, “Ohmigosh, wow you got a haircut! It looks sooooooo cuuuuuute! (emphasis on the long “sooooo” and long “u”, if that tells you anything about my high school, but I digress). Well, instead, I just got, “Ohmigosh, wow you, uh, you got a haircut.”
Keeping in line with my belief that I was “edgy”, I wanted to be a fashion designer. And so, as any good, legit fashion designer would, I was religiously devoted to my subscription of Teen Vogue. Especially the editorial shoots in the back. I was so devoted that I made it my goal to dress like that for school. But of course, who has these kinds of clothes just casually sitting in their closet?
There was only one solution, as far as I could tell. I would DIY the darn tutu. Long story short, I was a hot mess, without the “hot”.
Courting boys was a difficulty for me. I did get asked out freshman year–pixie haircut and all–but it was over Facebook. Over Facebook Chat. With a single smiley-face emoji. And I still thought it was the most romantic thing ever (hi Chris). The next day, my first day of being officially not single, I spent it running away from him. I avoided him on the stairs, in our class together (which only had like eight students in it, so be impressed); I even ran the perimeter of an entire building to avoid passing him at his locker. But, he found me. In the lunch line, when I finally let my guard down, I felt a tap on my head–he had hit me on the head with a baguette.
Is this real life?
Is THIS love?!
So yeah, I basically laid low in terms of my love life, for the rest of the semester. Or year. Or four years, but who’s counting?
And so, the only way to properly end this post, is of course with a picture of me circa 2009.