Scatter Plot

F.o.u.r.t.e.e.n

I've always been an awkward child. I was cute from birth till about seven years old, then my big teeth came in, I got glasses, and a few years later I hit puberty. So I was awkward physical as well as socially from seven until about...sixteen. Well I'm seventeen now and realized that I've been stupid for the last few years and am trying to actually get my crap together.

I should explain more... when my big teeth grew in, the results of me sucking my thumb until I was six backfired on me big time. My two front teeth stuck out so far I gained the name of Bucky Beaver in second grade and didn't lose it until middle school. They stuck out so far I couldn't close my mouth without one of my teeth showing. My orthodontist said I actually pushed the roof of my mouth up four centimeters farther than a normal human because I sucked my thumb as a kid. Well, this got me into braces when I was eight. I didn't get them off until I was about to turn sixteen. I suffered eight years with braces!!

"Yeah I was a little upset when my doctor said I'll have my braces on for a whole year." Christine said.

Deep breaths... only the strong have suffered like you, Rachel! Needless to say, I broke all the stupid braces rules within a month. Of course at first I was careful to avoid all the forbidden foods, but you really expected me to not eat beef jerky for eight years!?!?

Well about fifth grade (ten years old) I had to get glasses. My favorite teacher was my fourth grade teacher, and for some reason I thought he would tease me for getting glasses. It was a stupid fear, I mean teasing people with glasses is like not a thing really anymore. It's a disability, not something to be ashamed of. I can't see, dangit! Anyway, with this teacher, let's call him Mr. Joe, I shared a ton of witty banter with him when I was in his class. Me and Nicole were his favorites, so I really looked up to him. Well after developing this stupid fear that he'd tease me, every single time I saw him, I'd rip my glasses off my face, shoving them up my sleeve or in my pocket. I couldn't see to see if he was gone, so I'd just stare at the wall awkwardly for a few minutes to be sure before putting my glasses back on. He finally caught my sixth grade year, and he said nothing! Like honestly, dude! I just spent the last year of my poor ten year old self devoted to make sure you didn't discover my glasses out of fear that you'd make some sort of comment. What do I get? Nothing. It was a relief, and yet I was mad all at the same time. It wasn't even that he "caught" me, I just couldn't get my glasses off in time. It was a completely normal day for him, and I was mortified.

This can show you a bit of my anxiety, it's not fun. I worry about stupid things making me sick and they don't even matter. And yet the things I should by worrying about (aka, grades) don't even have a spot in my brain to even remember.

Well, more on my awkward phase. When puberty hit (yes I know, you guys don't want to hear about me going through puberty, weird) I was more awkward than normal. It seemed to hit a lot sooner than like my entire class, so I was the only forth grader with breasts, and it was the worst. I adopted wearing baggy sweatshirts, and stuck with that fashion statement until about six months ago. It got so bad that... well I'll just have to tell the story.

In sixth grade we went on a camping trip with all the sixth graders, and spent a week in the forest in June. I naturally brought my many sweatshirts, the hoodie type, not the jacket type that can unzip. Well it's the middle of June, and I'm not saying this is Arizona summer hot, but it's pretty dang hot. Well we did the normal stupid hippy camp things, team building exercises, skits, crafts, hikes. Well my group went on a hike on one of the hottest days, like so hot that the state of California went into red fire alert don't even scuff your shoes against a stone or you'll start a forest fire hot. This is legit, anyone who lives in or near California can back me up. Well we went on the hike, and I was in my sweatshirt, whereas everyone else was in their shorts and tank tops, the teachers let us break dress code it was so hot. But no, I'm willing to bake. I got so over heated I could hardly walk, and I had drank all my water. I had had heat stroke before, and didn't want it again, I knew I was being stupid, but honestly, I was eleven, I didn't actually think about it. I was feeling dizzy, nauseous, ready to pass out, but no, that isn't going to stop me. Our hippy camp councillor ended up coming over to me, asking if I wanted to take off my sweatshirt, but I held firm, and I kept it on.

Obviously I didn't die of heat stroke, I was just stupid. Well this isn't the end of my awkward phase. The glasses, the on coming pimples, the braces, the books, and yet the world still hated me. My mother didn't stop me with my poor hair choices. I was trying to grow out my bangs, so they were those ugly chunks of hair that I purposely hung in my face because I thought I looked all cool and angsty like that. Not only did I have that mess up front, it was certainly not a party in the back. I hadn't quite figured out the proportions of shampoo to conditioner yet, so my hair was always greasy, which...it's just gross, and it probably contributed to my ever growing zits. Well on top of the grease, I always wore it on a pony tail.

"But Rachel, Pony tails are that terrible?" Au contraire my good person I've concocted for this conversation. My pony tails weren't all cutesy on the crown of my head, no, they were at the base of my neck, hanging down around my shoulder like a dead ferret.

Now entering high school was bad enough, so I new I needed to change.  I was slowly coming out of the sweatshirts, wearing one normal outfit a week, and I decided to chop off the dead ferret of my hair into a cute Bob. Of course that Bob wasn't cute for long, I can't maintain hair, guys! I might as well shave it all off! I just don't have the face shape for it though, my face is too round for Bob's or pixies.

Yeah. It didn't get better till the beginning of this last year, when I was forced to dress professional for my internship, worst semester ever! But I actually got into the habit of actually of not hiding behind sweatshirts, and I was forced to learn how to do my hair and makeup. I mean hair and makeup weren't required of course, but I felt awkward dressing up nice and looking like I just survived the zombie apocalypse on my face.

Wow, this chapter is a mess. I don't actually know if I got my point across. To be honest I write these out quickly and read them after I publish them to see what I actually said. It can be dangerous sometimes.

I don't mean to offend anyone in this chapter, it's just me ranting about me being an outcast, so please laugh at me, I laugh at me too. Like honestly I was looking through my grandma's scrapbook of me the other day and I laughed the whole way through. Anyways, please comment and vote, feel free to share about your awkward phases! It's easier if I've already laid out myself for slaughter by laughter, so I'll go down first.