I don't want to intimidate you with what I'm about to say but...
.... I was voted on the All Star softball team for Huguenot Little League 11-13 year old division.
I know. Impressive. I'm not sure how they missed me at that year's ESPYs but I'll continue to stand by for the life achievement award.
So when you make the All Star team (subtle brag, you're welcome), you leave your team and move on to play with a whole new group of girls.
So here I am, an 11 year old. I get the list of names of the girls on the team and I start crying because they are all "popular" girls. I didn't go to private school, I went to public ---- home of the 450+ graduating class. So you better believe that cliques dominated, and the "you can't sit with us" girls ruled the school. That shit will mess with your head when you're a kid. Which is so unbelievably sad, because life goes on to be so wonderful. I just wish there was a way we could tell the kids today that this is nothing. Just wait until college, it will be the time of your life. You will be popular, not in the sense of being a mean girl in a clique, but in the true meaning of the word; SO MANY FRIENDS!
But how do you tell an 11 year old tomboy that?
So I head to my first practice with my head down and hat pulled over my eyes. Petrified. The coach says grab a partner for warm ups and I want to run home. But I don't know anyone here, they're all terrible mean girls that are so much prettier and cooler and more popular than I am!!!!!!
Jenny Francis (I've changed her name for this story, of course) immediately skips up to me (the 11 year old All Star mode of transportation) and asks if I have a partner.
At the end of that practice Jenny invited me to her birthday party that weekend. I told my mom about the invite, and then told her that I wasn't going. In so many 11 year old words, I was basically assuming that she was a raging bitch just like the rest of the girls, regardless of the pity partnership earlier.
To make a long story short, because that is what every blogger should attempt to do... my mom forced me to go to the party, just as any parent of an only child should do. Jenny was the kindest, sweetest and most welcoming person I'd ever met. She wasn't changed by being one of the popular girls. She thought for herself and as it turns out, I ended up being the bitch for judging a book by its cover.
From then on out, whenever I would doubt myself, or talk about the "popular girls", my mom would simply respond with, "Jenny Francis" and the discussion was over.
But guess what? To this very day, I still make this mistake, if you can believe that.
Oh she is prettier than I am, she won't like me.
Oh she is thinner than I am, she won't like me.
Oh she has such nicer clothes than I do, she won't like me.
Oh she has more money than I do, she won't like me.
Oh she is friend's with ____ she won't like me.
Oh, she won't like me.........