Most girls enter a graceless period in their early teens (there are a rare few that skip this phase and they are amazon women, and we hate them). Suddenly girls become painfully aware of how gawky they look. Sometimes they realize their knees are bigger than their thighs, or they realize they don’t really have discernable thighs, and their legs resemble thick tree trunk, pole-like objects more than legs. But their legs, whether they’re knobbly or completely knee-less and thigh-less are a whole lot less disturbing than the one girl who self-consciously wears pants 24/7 even in summer, for sporting events, and to the beach…just kidding, who did that?
The sudden awareness of gawkyness, and the attempt to cover up the gawkyness draws attention to it. These poor pubescent creatures find themselves floundering, as if caught by devil’s snare, their efforts to hide their ungainliness only seem to make their predicament worse. Self consciousness and moodiness prevails, braces last for way too long, bangs are experimented with. No one knows how to deal with acne yet. Everyone thinks they’re supposed to wear as much bottom eyeliner as they have on their top lid. “Maybe I’m a lipstick person?” is an all too common thought process that hits junior high schoolers like the flu. Not everyone experiences all the symptoms, but we all undoubtedly have the phase. Most women, with the help of facebook timeline, can even pinpoint the beginning and the end of the phase.
I was not immune. I suffered along with the rest, I did my time. But unfortunately my awkward never ended. For me awkward is not consigned to a phase, it’s a lifestyle. I had a particularly klutzy, brace-filled, moody, quiet, what 21st century teen gets a perm? filled phase that could compete with the rest of them, but that was not the beginning of my awkward, and it certainly was not the end either. I want to distinguish the difference between what is my personality, and what people might mistake as growing pains. They are different, I experienced both, and still experience the eternal growing pains associated with being me.
My friend’s mom has this sign hanging in her house that says “I do not suffer from stress, but I am a carrier.” That’s how I feel too. I do not suffer from a lack of social grace, but I sure do experience my fair share of messes resulting from it. I have chosen to embrace this, it’s either that, or drown.
If I was going to be self conscious about every awkward encounter I have, I’d be an anxiety ridden, agoraphobe by now.
These encounters are not worth beating myself up over. But they are worth laughing at. You know that Dixie Chicks Song “Am I the only one”? (It’s a good idea to bow your head when you read the aforementioned band name, be respectful.) It’s a single lady anthem and in the chorus they sing, “Am I the only one who’s ever felt this way/ Now my sense of humor needs a break.” The twangy little blonde chick is referring to an awful sensation of awkwardness that single women feel quite a lot. Awkward encounters with men leave a feeling of lowliness, and self scorn. I am not sure why. I do not mean specifically sexual encounters with men either. Completely non-sexual awkward encounters with men can leave that painful sting.
I’ve determined it’s my unofficial job, my own little service project for the awkward single girls out there, to show them that they most certainly are not alone. Each of these painful little incidents should be laughed at, learned from, and tossed aside like the clothes your mom buys you for Christmas.
With that, I give you this series of first person stories about my life laid bare for all to see. Some are exaggerated, fictionalized, and blended with other incidents, but they’re all based in a nugget of truth. Use them as you will, and enjoy them as I hope you can.
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