I once fell totally in love with a guy. I day dreamed about him, I wrote poetry about him, I practiced writing my first name coupled with his last name, and I was shy, nervous and giddy anytime he was near.
I assume you’re wondering, ‘Where is the cliché hating, romance boycotting, last name refusing Elle that we’ve all grown to adore?’ (Don’t deny your adoration for me.)
Well… I should probably mention that I was in Grade 6 at the time. I was in grade six and I was in love like Zack and Kelly. I remember looking at this odd little 12-year-old boy, who played with plasticine and wore the same pair of track pants every day, and thinking, ‘I’ll never love anyone more.’
I danced with him at one of the school dances. Which actually means I nervously sweated and swayed with him to Savage Garden’s “Truly, Madly, Deeply” while doing my best to avoid ALL eye contact. In Grade 6 I was sort of like a hybrid of Shrek and Winnie-the-Pooh; I was huge, awkward, and far too sweet to have a fighting chance at being cool. Needless to say, beyond being one of his classmates, I was overlooked by him and every other 12-year-old boy within a 50-mile radius. I was convinced I would die alone, unloved and unnoticed forever.
I sort of remained this awkward, gawky weirdo until I hit high school. Somewhere during grade 8 I bought a bottle of hair dye, got contacts, and started dressing in clothes that weren’t all hand-me-downs. My baby fat started to reproportion itself to my hips and ass (unfortunately not to my boobs) giving me a curvy and somewhat mature body figure. Suddenly being tall meant having long legs and in the same moment it became the boy’s fault for being too short.
In September of Grade 9, I walked down the halls of my high school and something brand spankin’ new happened: boys LOOKED at me! Apparently, I wasn’t invisible. I spent the next four years living with a mixture of entirely too much self-esteem and yet no self-esteem at all. I knew I was attractive because I was told I was attractive, but inside I still felt like the clumsy loner who was destined to spend eternity in solitude. I remember standing in the hallway trembling with terror and excitement after the hottest senior in school had smiled AND said hi to me. If “OMG” were a term used back then, I would have been repeating it over and over and over for the next two hours. (Side note: I totally made out with him one time at a party! High-five 14 year old me!)
I often wish I could go back and talk to my younger self. I wish I could tell myself things like, “Elle, don’t be intimidated by her. That bitch who treats you like shit is going to end up being fired from Wal-Mart!” I remember there was this one guy who I loved and every other 14-18 year old female on the face of the planet loved as well. He was smokin’ hot, and at one party he started paying attention to me… a lot of attention… so much attention that some of older girls felt the need to corner me and threaten me about it. Being the shy, passive, little girl I was, I totally backed off. I would kill to go back to that moment now: I’d smile sweetly at the bitches and say, “Fuck you!” Then I’d go make him fall in love with me and laugh as they all scowled on in horror. Fuck I hate girls. (Still.)
I think I’d also tell myself stuff like, “Elle, you’re always going to think your nose is to big, but at some point you’re going to stop giving a shit… so stop stressing over it,” “Elle, you don’t have to drink to be social. Sober you is just as funny and cool,” or “Elle, your high school sweetheart is not your soul mate.”
Ah yes… wouldn’t it be nice to go back? But then again, the future looks very promising and the present is pretty hot too! I like where I am. I like who I am. I like my guts and my ass (which I suppose is a tad larger than it was back in the day) and I like the fact that I no longer let older – or younger – women intimidate me. I like that my laugh is obnoxiously loud and that I drink far more than I should. I like that I’m fiercely independent and that I started a blog called Sex and the Shitty. I like that I don’t really give a shit about finding a boyfriend or getting married. I like that I can pump my own gas and pay for my car’s maintenance. I like the people who surround me, and I like that I don’t feel the need to be liked. I like it all. If I had a facebook like button, I would totally press it.
I also like you… yes you… Thanks for reading!
p.s. If you could go back, what would you tell yourself?
