So, my name is Jane BEOTCH.
No. Really. It. Is. BUT, and big BUT here, it's pronounced: BEE-OWE-TCH and NOT BEE-AWE-TCH.
Though I try explaining that to people, everyone seems to pronounce it the wrong way. Some on purpose.
But before you say, 'It isn't that bad'. Let me just tell you my full name. It's JANE ALLISON BEOTCH. So, yeah I got a lot of JANE A BE-AWE-TCH in school.
I know. My parents are clueless.
When I was 13, I begged them to change our last name. I tried explaining why but they ignored me like they usually did and still do.
For the longest time, I thought that they hated me and thought for sure they did it on purpose. That I must have been adopted because they could in no way be my real parents. INo one could be that cruel.
Ok. So - yeah - whatever - I was a pretty dramatic pre-teen. Ptthh!
Well unfortunately much to my little pre-teen surprise, I am not adopted.
Even though I don't have the good looks that my former rock star dad has, I did inherit his freakishly blue-green eyes and dark brown hair. Now, couple that with my mom's very detailed video proof of my birth complete with a 10 minute focus on my unmistakably one of a kind lollipop looking birth mark on my thigh, well folks - that and the state of Washington says that I am indeed theirs. Yes Maury, Jameson and Caterina Beotch are my parents.
Funny though - everyone pronounces their last name right.
Anyway unlike the familial features I share with Dad, Mom on the other hand is nothing like me. Or more like, I am nothing like her.
As she always likes to point out.
Caterina Beotch (admit it, even as you read this you're pronouncing it right). My Mom. My Mother.
Yes. The Caterina Beotch is my mom and my mom is..gorgeous. The epitome of beauty. Blonde hair (yes her natural color), blue eyes, long legs, the so not-right curves for a mom (yes, also natural) is my mother. The former Model/Cheerleader/Homecoming Queen/Beauty Queen is loved by all. Even the cheerleaders at my school worship her. She is pretty much Queen Bee around here.
Yes. She is my mother. And unfortunately for her, I am her daughter. PLAIN JANE BEE-AWE-TCH.
Even if she's never actually said it. I know I'm a disappointment.
With my parents being 'cool like that', you would think some of it would have rubbed off on me and that I'd be naturally popular and loved by all right?
WRONG. Bubble burst!
I'm not. I'm not popular. I'm not 'The Girl' everyone looks at. NoPe! No one notices me. I'm a no body. Yes, people remember my name but most of the time they don't even associate it with my face. I'm pretty much invisible.
So, this is my life.
I am a 16 year old stumbling high school junior. A no body. They should have named me Invisible. I don't think that even my best friend Melissa sees me some times as I swear she's always saying, "Jane where are you? OH! There you are." Even though I'm pretty much always right next to her.
She tells me it's because I'm so quiet all the time, that she feels like she needs to always make sure I'm there. Uh huh. Sure.
The one and only time my Mom gave me advice, she says, "Jane, you just need to smile more and just talk to people. Simple."
Simple she says. Yeah right Mom. Smile more. Did you really think a 13 year old who so does not look like her gorgeous mother could just flash her smile (thereby blinding their eyes with all the shiny metal in her braces) and just easily talk to people without accidentally spitting? Really Mom?
I tried that once with a group of girls in my class. They laughed at me and ran away. Ok, so...maybe telling them how happy I was that the popular goddesses were talking to me even though technically they weren't and hadn't even said a word to me yet since I was the one who walked up to them was not the coolest thing to say. But hey, I was nervous ok! And, yes. I did actually call them 'popular goddesess.
Yeah. Face palm even now as I'm recalling it. I know.
With my parents being the social icons that they are, I was raised around parties and social events. And though opportunity's door was always there, doesn't mean I knew how to knock on that door. I was always too nervous and instead of saying nice things to people and having a nice conversation, my nerves would get to me and I'd end up living up to the name BEE-AWE-TCH by insulting people by saying mean things and being sarcastic. My unfortunate defense mechanism.
One time at a party I went to with my parents, I made a cute guy my age who mistakenly came up to me, literally run away because I told him that his suit made him look funny and that his voice hasn't caught up to his height and that he sounded like a very pretty girl.
I was so convinced that I had Turrets that I begged my parents to have me checked out hoping a Dr. could cure it. Of course like usual, they shoo'd me and that away. So, I came up with my own solution.
I remember this saying, 'Think before you speak.' I liked the idea. So basically I trained myself to keep quiet and to only speak when necessary and to be sure I don't lose control, I made a rule to only speak with few words as possible. No more than 20 words. And yes, I do count my words. Now sure, there's always an uncomfortable longer than normal pause before I answer a question because I have to think it out first and of course count, but over the years I've gotten better at it and to me it isn't that noticeable anymore. Besides, it isn't like I had a lot of people to converse with anyway.
I also decided to stop trying to make friends at these parties. As the people that were here didn't seem like the type who'd accept me anyway. So whenever we came to parties, I would just retreat to the corner alone and just observe people. No one really bothered with me anyway. Most had already endured embarrassing experiences with me so they pretty much steered clear of me anyway.
It was a little lonely at first because I was naturally a very talkative kid and what 13 year old didn't want to be accepted at that age? But fear of embarrassing myself made me stay hidden at least until I met Melissa who became my best friend. My only friend.
