14

So, during the past few weeks, my work load has exploded-- so I thought tonight would be a good time for a break and a little blast from my past.

I just need a good laugh tonight!

Prepare yourselves, because, seriously, well... There are 2 words that describe me at 14 years old: MAJOR. DORK. If you think I'm already a dweeb, check out my 14-year-old self.

My mom made us write about ourselves on these little note cards back in 1999 and then we all added the cards and a few items that represented us to a time capsule, which sat in my parents' closet until last year.

Then it was opened and... this was me 10 years ago (I blurred out some last names to protect the innocent):

Yeah. Some of it, I can still deal with. Blue is OK. My first crush was Brandon Doe... that was an unrequited love. I remember on my last day of middle school, I brought a disposable camera with me and secretly took a picture of Brandon out in the school yard so that I'd be able to keep it under my pillow and blow kisses at it all summer. Soon after that my hopes were dashed when he started "going out" with an older girl from our church.

As far as the jeans... I don't know if that can be forgiven. I wore Aura by Wrangler. If you don't know what that is, it's basically the mom jean of Wranglers. Don't even get me STARTED on my choice in movies. Seriously, Jess? George of the Jungle? That was the BEST I could come up with?

Oh, dear.

'99 Chevy truck... Well, at least I knew my trucks.

Do you ever think back on your middle school years and remember what a deeply awkward stage it was? I wore oversize men's shirts, heinous denim, and I got my hair permed even though it was already curly... Titanic and Backstreet boys were THE thing (Nick Carter!!), and I was always jealous of all the other kids who got a Walkman for their birthday.

And the bangs... Oh, the bangs. I had a 2" barrel curling iron and I'd twist my bangs around it and then hairspray those babies until they were stiffer than a board and there was burnt hairspray all over the curling iron. Then I'd carefully peel my bang curl off the curling iron so as not to disturb the shellac. It was literally like having an empty toilet paper roll glued to my forehead. Yeah. GROSS.

I also kept a journal in which I wrote horrifyingly bad poetry, which at the time I thought was very deep and moving and emotional. My husband got hold of one of those journals after we were married, and I still have not lived it down.

Yeah.

All I can say is, I am SO GLAD I don't have to be 14 ever again!

I want to hear about your adolescence, too. Were you as painfully dorky as me?