"Cool." It's amazing how such a small word can have such a big impact on who you are and whether or not you succeed socially. There are many different definitions of the word "cool," depending on who you ask. For some people, the word could mean owning a closet full of designer clothes and a sports car. For others, it could be someone who gets invited to every party or has access to alcohol. Growing up, for me "cool" simply meant fitting in with the rest of the crowd.
Fitting in is a crucial part of surviving the awkward years. I think that need to feel accepted by the majority occurs in just about everyone, especially during the preteen and high school years. During those in-between stages, most people just want to keep their heads down and make it through each day without being called out for being lame in some form or another. I tried my best to be that kid who was just another number, but it's clear to me now that I was always meant to swim against the current.
It was right in the heart of middle school when I learned that I was meant to shake things up. That was an unfortunate moment to realize I was a weirdo, because at that point in time all I wanted was to be friends with all the cool girls and desired by all the cool guys. I was your stereotypical awkward eighth-grader, complete with glasses, braces, acne, greasy hair, and an unusual fashion sense. It was the fashion choices that ended up getting me in trouble--and also teaching me an important lesson.
One day, I ripped a hole in a pair of skinny jeans, but I still wanted to get some use out of them, so I decided to cut the jeans at the knee and keep the bottom halves to wear as a pair of denim leg-warmers. What a mistake that turned out to be. I felt so cool sauntering around school in my "fashionable" outfit, not understanding that the people asking where I got them were making fun of me, not inquiring how to look as flawless as I presumed I did. It was not until weeks later, when some of the bullies who had taunted me about my leg warmers created a Facebook post about how awful they were and how lame I was, that I realized I would never be one of the cool kids.
At the time, I was heartbroken. All I wanted was to be labeled "cool," to believe that I could fit in with the rest of the Hollister- and Aeropostale-clad clones in the school. I was afraid to be the odd one out because I was so worried about everyone's opinions of me. It took me until only recently to realize that trying to be like everyone else is something I shouldn't do. I shouldn't be trying to dress like, look like, or act like everyone else because, to be blunt, that is boring as hell. I am uniquely me, and I am learning to fully appreciate my weirdness. I am no longer scared to dance like a goofball in front of people, or leave the house in head-to-toe Disney gear, or anything else that may be deemed "strange" by the general population. I'm enjoying standing out, and should I ever rip a hole in the crotch of a pair of jeans again, I look forward to rocking those denim leg warmers proudly.
