It was your average Monday morning, it was 6:00 am and my alarm was just going off. Arctic Monkeys was playing from my computer, and I was picking out my outfit for school. It took me a while but I decided on my favourite pair of black leggings, my red plaid flannel shirt from garage, and my brown combat boots with a black scarf and an owl necklace that landed just above my belly button.
“Vanesssaaa??” I hear from downstairs “are you awake yet?” it’s my mom; she knows that I hate to wake up.
“Yes mom” I reply “I’m just going to hop in the shower and then I’ll be down for breakfast!”
Once I got out of the shower I added some Moroccan oil to my hair, just as I could smell the sweet scent of waffles drifting up the stair. My favourite.
It took me 10 minutes tops to eat my waffle –that I topped with whipped cream, caramel and pecans—it was probably 300 calories, but it was incredibly satisfying. I then walked upstairs to dry and curl my hair. I packed my lunch and got dressed and then headed to school.
I walked to school as I always do; with my music. Bob Dylan was playing in my eats, not a care in the world, but as always that changed once I got to school, I walked in just in front of Carly Smith and Emily Lockwood not a single eye on me, not that I mind considering I’ve never been a fan of attention. I don’t mean to sound cliché, but Carly and Emily were the “popular” kids in school, they were wearing leggings, Ugg boots, and sweaters that were two sizes too big along with their white iPhones and the Starbucks they picked up on the way to school in their shiny new cars that their dads bought for them. But I wasn’t jealous; I never wanted to be like them.
“Hey Vanessa” I turned around out of shock, I knew that voice, but it ...
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...ay at school I wore my combat boots and my own sweater, which made me feel great. I listened to my music on the way to school, and when Carly ripped my headphones from my ear with a look of disgust, I simply said:
“I’m so sorry girls, but I need to focus on my school work, not clothes and who hates who” The girls looked appalled but I couldn’t care less.
“Are you like, serious?” Carly said.
“yeah, im really sorry!”
“This is unbelieveable…” Emily was speechless
“I’ll see you around” I just wanted them to leave at that point.
“Um, okay I guess” Carly was too surprised to understand, but they finally left.
I put my headphones back in my ears and realized that I loved the person that I was, I love my music and I love the clothes that I wear, and I don’t want any popular girls to change that. I am my own person, and if I can’t be proud of that, what can I be proud of?
My middle school’s dean smiles while handing me my certificate. I gave her my best fake smile and stood in line with the rest of my classmates who made the honor roll. I put my medal around my neck, held my certificate in my left hand, and put my right arm behind my back. I can’t believe I left my jacket in my mom’s car.
It was my senior year of high school, I was sixteen, getting ready to turn seventeen. It was my senior year of high school. I was not your typical girl wearing makeup everyday and worrying about getting dolled up for school. I did not play sports. Don’t get me wrong, I would get all dolled up if I had something special to do like go to a school dance. I had a part time job at Olive garden because my parents motto was “if you do not play a sport you need to work!” My mom used to say to me “you know Alana back in my time I was not able to work so you are very lucky you're able to work.
These days, as both characters ironically prove, it is difficult trying to be different when being different is a category in itself. Dave and Julia, the two protagonists of this book, are both the cool, “hipster” type kids that would burn themselves drinking their coffee because they have to do it before it is cool. Both of them think high school is the biggest cliché imaginable, which – when you think about it- it really is. How many of us fantasized over being prom king or queen? Having someone ask you out to a dance in the most romantic, over used fashion possible? Wanted to run for class president or some other office? These are the sort of things that Dave and Julia vow never to do during their four years of high school, until one day everything changes. As the summary explains, Dave and Julia start a pact (which they write down and title the "Nevers List") right before high school, swearing off participating in any of the "cliché" high school experiences that were just bound to arise. The list goes as
When I walked in Ms. Shannon’s class I introduced myself and told the kids to pretend I wasn’t in the class. I sat in the back an...
Maybe it’s the fact that I tend to stay in my room all weekend, which leads to people thinking I’m studying when in reality I am probably binge watching a TV show or maybe it’s my glasses, but most people who don’t know me too well assume that I am smart. Now that is a great thing for me because I don’t have to try as hard to impress them, but I end up finding myself in a bit of a problem. The problem is that everyone thinks I enjoy admiring school textbooks. But the truth is I’m usually admiring my Justin Bieber poster on my bedroom wall. Ever since I was in sixth grade I’ve been a huge fan of Bieber. His music always brought a feeling of calmness and back in the day his “never say never” motto, was what I lived by. I might still be living by that motto because I’ve decided to write this essay
It was a regular day for at Hillcrest High School in Springfield, Missouri, and of course Mrs.Bain had to do this to us. Like always if the “populars” do not agree with what the teacher does then, they will complain about everything. At school we have geeks, nerds and the Jocks/preppy populars. I am one of the nerds at school because I have a high HQ. There was the two most populars, Ian and Ashley. Ian was this very attractive boy that girls would fall head over heals for-if you don’t know him very well-. He had dreamy chocolate brown eyes, shocking brunette hair, and he had dimples when he smiled. Oh the way he smiles, I did not just think that! I cannot believe that just ew! Then there was th...
“Olivia, did you sign up for baseball?” asked Skyler, my stomach dropped I didn’t know what else to say but
... style to feel like other's like I was worth something. I soon realized as I got older that "living through, somebody else's shadow will keep me from knowing myself,". I realized that being myself and wearing what I like makes me even more beautiful. The advertisments on t.v are not the way they seem in reality.
It seemed like a great idea, until I went to school with manure still on the bottom of my shoes. That day at school nobody wanted to sit by me. I had no partners for our 1st grade addition project, and on the playground no one wanted to pass the ball to me during soccer. I came home crying to Mom, sad that I didn 't have anyone to play with. My mom told me it was my own fault, and I needed to put on clean clothes. My mom picked out my clothes, but she wasn 't girly either, so I didn’t mind. Clean jeans and a hand-me down Royalton T-shirt from my brothers was my usual attire, in contrast to the girls in a pink dress, with pink leggings, pink shoes, and a pink bow on top of their pretty braids. These girls intimidated me, but the boys always seemed to tease them the most, and wanting friends I would tried to blend in as well. I began to wear the dresses I usually saved for Sunday morning mass, and my mom, picking up on my change in attire, bought skirts, and a sparkly butterfly shirt, that easily became my favorite choice of clothing. Towards the end of my time in elementary I had progressed into clothes from Aeropostale and Hollister. When I went into junior high school the clothes came from Pink, Wet Seal, and other expensive brand names. I didn’t necessarily even care
I started wearing what I wanted and not just what was popular. I didn’t have close connections with my friends at the time either. Most of them gossiped all the time, and that’s just not me. I had been stuck in my shell for way too long in fears of being an outcast. The first day of trying to come out of my shell I was made fun of, but I didn’t care near as much as I thought I would. These people are making jokes about me but don’t have any clue who I am, what I’ve been through, or what my future holds. So why even give them the time of day? I kept on wearing what I wanted and actually made life-long friends who were into the same things as I was. It does not matter what you wear or how you look honestly. The only thing that should matter is what’s inside of you, and you shouldn’t be discouraged to express that in fears of someone not liking you. “Those who matter don’t mind, those that mind don’t matter” (Theodore Suess Geisel.)
Okay, now as I think back, I will admit that it being the first day of middle school I should have put a little effort in my appearance but, who did I have to impress? Weren?t we coming here to learn? If I was going to sit in a classroom for 8 hours a day I needed to be comfortable.
It was about one-thirty in the morning in the town of Homestead Michigan. The almost florescent light of the moon bouncing off the fresh puddles that covered the ground. The grass and trees were covered in a thin layer of water causing every little beam of light to reflect back up. Anyone who may have been outside at this time would have without double, smelled the mix of fresh dirt and night crawlers. As the moonlight started to fade away through the cloud cover, three buses made there way through the streets and parked in front of HHS, the local high school.
I remember when I was in high school I would wake up every morning dreading the thought of “what am I going to wear today?” I remember seeing girls in school who would always have new clothes and I would wish of a wardrobe with name brand clothes. With my parents having three daughters in school who didn’t require uniform I could just imagine the nightmare it was for them to have to take three girls shopping all the time.
The first day of school started and Kandy was in 10th grade. Her new clothes got her a lot of attention, everyone complimented her about how they loved what she was wearing. That was the only thing she was confident about, her clothes. She knew that her style was awesome. Her best friend, Ang, was in two of her classes. Kandy thought that this would be the best year of school because she never had any friends in any of her classes before. Turns out they both had the same lunch. They would talk up by the road, on the sidewalk, to Speedway everyday for lunch. For some reason people would always honk at them and one day a girl yelled out the window and called them sluts. Obviously because she was jealous. The first few days of school went by fast, then kept getting slower and slower.
Anybody that knows me knows that my passion and goals in life have to deal with fashion. If I could be anything in this world I would love to be a designer of some sort or at least be in the industry. When it comes to clothing and style it just comes easy one of the easiest things I’m good at. Fashion is an art form it allows you to express your view on style anyway you choose. And to me I feel like nobody has the right to judge that. Style hasn’t always come easy to be though just like everything else it takes time and practice it’s still a work in progress. When I look back to my middle school and early high school years I wonder deeply about my choices, middle school had to have been the worst. I was going through a colored jeans faze, I would wear bright yellow, honey mustard yellow, sky blue, purple, and pink. If somebody were to name a color I probably had jeans that color. It gets worse though because I would have the worst possible combination choice of shoes to go along with a matching bead necklace and bracelet set, followed by a grey or navy blue uniform shirt. It’s clear I had no idea what I was doing the best part is I was being myself and that’s all that matters. No matter how much I think my style has grown I’m only human and will look back and probably wonder why I wore the outfit I’m wearing sitting here writing this essay.