Have you ever read your livejournal from two years ago and suddenly gotten really confused because you realize that yourself two years ago was a really horrid person? I just logged onto my old livejournal (I switched to myspace long ago, I suppose because it's easier to have an obsession with a larger website, not that I have an obsession with myspace or anything) and it turns out I was kind of an alpha-***. I hated my height (because I was about 2 inches taller than every guy I liked at the time. I figure that it was a blessing in disguise because the guys have gotten so much hotter since their pubescent middle school days. Not to bash middle school, but, if my livejournal proves anything, it's that 6-8th grade is a terrible, terrible time. At least it was for me and everyone else I talk to these days. The beauty is that my friends and I can sit around creating general chaos and be like "back in the day, when we were all much shorter and had considerable amounts of lunch meat, school sucked." And because I happen to think that my high school is the coolest thing since FRIENDS (and I mean that most sincerely, having had an adolescent love for that show that included blowing off any chance at a social life for many Friday nights to watch it on DVD with a pint of ice cream and my cat. Seriously, it was like I was a 60-year-old cat lady with a fiendish fear of society, but better.), I can pull the whole my-school-wins-at-life thing without feeling guilty and buying a box of band-aids for my breaking heart, or something less potentially awkward.
To continue(as one often does in blog-type things), I had no idea how spotty my memory of middle school is. Obviously I remember the back-stabbing, the lonely angst(complete with angry diary entries with definitly more than forty-seven utilized IQ points), the mindless schoolwork and bad hair-dye jobs, but I forgot what it was like to spend days on end going to school feeling completely incompetent, like the world had created a "let's crush Jasmine because her hair looks suspiciously hamster-like" club and I was left to suffer. Of course, if I would have opened my eyes I might have noticed how nobody was staring at my imaginary flaws, but hey, I'm just glad that phase was two years ago instead of now. It's really nice to have jeans that fit (because it's ridiculously hard to buy clothes that look decent when you have low self esteem) and it's as good as tiramisu to know that I have a group of friends that have been there for me for two years now. (HA!) Anyway, I'm just pleased that I was able to stop being so horribly mistaken about my worth as a person, and now have a budding shoe fetish that I really enjoy. Life is sweet for the bitterly unprepared!