How I Met Jane

“You guys still think i’m cooooool?”

I just got asked if I was popular in high school.

An intense flashback of me with bleach blonde hair and stripped pants sitting on a bench laughing as I secretly stole glances of a boy I liked for four years who only noticed my existence 6 years ago.

2014-01-26 10.17.25

Yeah, I was a creeper. He noticed me though, said I had a “Staring problem.” Yup. Self-explanatory.

I mean I wasn’t at the bottom of the food chain, nor the top. Every now and then when a “cool” kid talked to me it was nice, thus proving my cool ranking was not as high.

I think I fell in between the cracks. I was cool enough to be noticed by my senior year since I got voted “Most Unique” which is a nice way of saying ” You’re one weird girl whose cool and we remembered you because you had pink hair.”

…I still don’t understand how guys liked me. To this day.

Some of my co-workers think that I was the cool kid in class though. Ha, if they only knew when I sat on gum my freshman year and tried desperately to walk backwards, clinching my butt cheeks to go home.

If someone asked me if I was popular in Middle School though, the answer would be no. Hell no.

Socially awkward, lanky girl,with no bangs to expose huge forehead, pimples, and whose only friend was a little Asian girl just imported who stood by a pole with an Adidas track suit pant and jacket that never matched and talked about homework.

2014-01-26 10.41.51

Good times. Fun fact: little Asian girl grew up a little slutty. Now has an adorable baby.

Still on this question, I still don’t understand where I stood on the popularity scale. Maybe I was that kid you liked but was afraid to admit out of fear of lowering one’s street cred?

Not sure.

I wasn’t a cheerleader.

I couldn’t successfully play a sport.

I wasn’t dumb to be cool.

I wasn’t smart to be known for being smart.

Didn’t have huge boobs.

Didn’t dress girly.

Just now in my mid 20’s understand what the meaning of a “pedicure and manicure.”

Didn’t have my first kiss until I was 16 and didn’t know that spit was exchanged.


I obviously didn’t have a boyfriend or put out to climb up the social ladder.

I was just me.

and after you go from being so out of the circle of not being cool, it is then cool again and you go back up for not caring.

It’s like a fashion faux pas of wearing white after labor day. Or neon colors from the 80’s, it’s cool again.

In the end I’m pretty glad. Most of the cheerleaders now are fat and have babies, but I mean there’s nothing wrong with being a cheerleader. I’m not anti-cheerleader. This isn’t a typical low-self-esteem, tall girl who writes poetry cliché hate statement.

This is more of a “I’m dating a guy who was a football player, dated a cheerleader and now has a kid from said cheerleader and this seems to still haunt me” statement.

I was (still am) one of the guys. The girl who cursed with them, drank with them, and had a crush on one of them and he never responded back and went with the fat girl who I still don’t understand why…huh…

So to answer the question if I was popular. I would say no. I was too cool to be mainstream. I’m a little indie, independent dork.

…this is what I tell myself to make me feel better.

It works!

Always be yourself. At the end of the journey of avoiding yourself, to be someone else, you end up with yourself; this is how you end up making yourself. Make someone good.


2 thoughts on ““You guys still think i’m cooooool?”

  1. I moved a lot so I had the opportunity to be the “cool kid” but it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Next time we moved I got into choir and hung out with the band kids, which are clearly the coolest.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s