despite what andrea says, she is a sassy internet chick. but her post here has got me thinking about the concept of fitting in.
my whole life all i’ve ever wanted to do is fit in– to blend in with the crowd. i just wanted to be like everyone else. i never went through that rebellious stage. i never went through that hipper than though non-conformist stage. i spent my adolescent years trying my damndest to be a wallflower. but, you see. . . it wasn’t that easy. i couldn’t blend in so well, because i stuck out too much.
in an e-mail to a friend i recently wrote, “i decided as a 5’10” 10-year-old that societal norms didn’t apply to me.” of course, when i was 10 i didn’t really phrase it in such a manner. mostly it came out in a teary conversation with my mom where i asked her if god might not have screwed up and maybe i was supposed to be a boy. my mom set me straight and said i wasn’t supposed to be a boy and that i was a very fine girl and i needn’t worry about being so tall.
that was the first of many teary conversations i would have with my mom regarding my unusual height. most of the tears came during shopping excursions. i hated buying shoes and clothes. hated it with a passion. i just wanted to dress like everyone else. but it was impossible. when all the girls were wearing those adorable guess? sweatshirts with the teddy bears on them, i wanted one so badly. more than i wanted anything in my entire life. but we couldn’t find one that fit. i was devestated. i remember arguing with my mom about how i just wanted to fit in. her reply, “i am sorry jodi. but you just weren’t designed to fit in.”
so yeah, i’ve never quite gotten the fitting in thing, which is probably good. sticking out has made me stronger. hell, surviving jr. high made me strong. now, i have forgotten the point i was going to make. it’s late again and i can’t sleep and i am thinking about jr. high. i am detecting a pattern here and i am none too thrilled about this.
it’s funny that with so much going on in my job-life right now that i lay awake and reminisce (which i am pretty sure i spelled wrong) about being a kid. i guess i miss it sometimes, but i am not exactly sure why. it was hell– a million heartbreaks a day. but they sure seem like the good old days, don’t they? maybe they seem so good because i can look back and see how trivial those heartbreaks and humiliations were. i can see that world did not end because my cheerleader cousin wendy told cam anderson that i liked him. the world didn’t end because jenni trunnell wanted to be dawn larson’s best friend instead of mine. and hey– that really meant something back then. in 8th grade choosing your best friend was way more important than choosing a boyfriend.
so why am i telling you all this? i don’t even know. as my friend kari likes to say, “you just talk to hear your head roar.” i think that’s why i do this. i like to hear my head roar.