These were a little harder because, somewhat obviously, I remember a lot more about the more recent portion of my life than I do about years one through ten. I am not 19 years old, by the way – I just felt like 18 was a good place to stop.
Year 11: I am in sixth grade now. I still refuse to wear my glasses, even though I really need them. I get poison ivy all over my face during the first month of school and am certain all the other kids think I am a monster. I spend this year hiding behind my hair and stumbling into things. I hit awkward early and hard.
Year 12: I stop playing with my little brother all the time and begin to spend hours on the phone with my friends. Some of them already have boyfriends, but I just have crushes. My friend has make-out parties in her basement, but I am purely a spectator. I secretly think kissing with tongue is gross.
Year 13: I have my first kiss. My suspicions are confirmed.
Year 14: The first day of high school I put my mother’s “body mousse” in my hair because I am trying to be cool and grown up. My hair looks like I bathe in grease – not quite the effect I was looking for. I am one of two girls in jazz band and promptly develop a very high tolerance for dirty jokes as a means of survival.
Year 15: I discover dieting. My mother goes on a diet and I decide I will too. I eat 800 calories a day (two rice cake PBJs, two oranges, a lean cuisine meal, and a jello pudding). I lose 20 lbs, but find out the hard way that (1) this is a dysfunctional thing to do and (2) mother doesn’t always know best.
Year 16: I (finally) hit my stride. Awkward no more! I promptly enter into an ill-advised relationship with a somewhat dim-witted young man. He likes me much more than I like him.
Year 17: I am drum major of our high school marching band, but am not particularly good at it. I don’t want to yell at people – I want everyone to like me. I like to drive around in my car with the windows down listening to The Jackson Five and the theme song from Mr. Roger’s neighborhood at full volume. I think I am very funny.
Year 18: In the summer, I work at Starbucks and go to the movies with my boyfriend multiple times a week. We park in his car all over town so we can make out. We are only caught by the cops once.
Your first diet sounds better than mine, which began at 13 and consisted of chef’s salads and lots of bulimia. : (
You make a good point – my little diet is actually not that bad considering what a lot of teens put themselves through. Women who get through adolescence without eating issues are by far the minority.
I suffered through numerous bad diets (starving involved in most of them) and now I have the most f-ed up metabolism.
Oh, and I think I moved out of the dorkdom period about the same age.