18

Last night, my friend Lindsay O and I sat in my living room, reminiscing about high school, while we looked at old pictures from my senior prom. I know, get out of town! Me? Reminiscing and feeling nostalgic for times that have passed!You don't say!

As we sat looking at old pictures, I found myself growing increasingly sad. And, not for the usual reasons. Not because seven years seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, or because I loved high school, and tend to have trouble moving on from different life experiences. (All of which are true). Despite all of these things, I felt sad for a much shallower reason. I may have peaked at eighteen years old. I'll say it. During my senior year of high school, I looked good. There are no pictures up on facebook to prove this fact, but I speak only the truth.

I think that I have earned the right to say that. For the five years that led up to my senior year of high school I battled with an awkward stage truly unknown to man. An awkward stage so terrible, that no one should ever have to suffer through such tumultuous times. (ever.) If you were lucky enough not to remember me during this period, let me refresh your memory.

Oh where to begin? I suppose we could start with my bangs that resembled something similar to your pubes. Short, pieces of brown fuzz resting on the top of my forehead. I had braces that I changed the color of the bands according to seasons and holidays. And, oh yes then there were my eyebrows. I was too "scared" to tweeze my eyebrows, afraid of the pain. So, instead I decided to inflict a different kind of pain on myself and onto everyone else who had to look at me. I had one large Caterpillar across my forehead for a good five years. However, by the time my senior year rolled around, I had most of these issues resolved. (Thanks to Christine at Antonio's my eyebrows never looked better!)

My hair which had formerly been mousy, frizzy and short, had grown long-- and with the invention of the flat iron (which would later become my hair's demise), my hair was now soft, straight and lovely. And then there was my body. While I had developed tits earlier in high school, I was still wearing bras with an elastic band. That's right, I did not wear under wire. There I was carting around D boobs with only a thin band of elastic to hold them up!

Finally, the summer going into my senior year, it had occurred to me that I should probably wear under wire bras. And BAM! Just like that, my rack had never looked better. All of my wardrobe malfunctions of the past were finally water under the bridge. (The Winnie the Pooh sweatsuit and chapstick necklace finally retired). As for the rest of my body--I really didn't know how good I had had it. I was truly blessed with a metabolism that moved at the speed of light. I ate ice cream sundaes, chicken fingers and other assorted evils whenever I wanted and yet--my body never showed it. I was just barely 100 pounds, standing at 5 foot 6 inches tall. Of course at the time, I never even thought about my body, not even once. I didn't even know what a calorie was! No, I'm not kidding. I did not learn what calories were until my sophomore year of college when I was informed that I had been eating more calories at lunch than I needed in a given day. Who knows? Maybe seven years from now I will look back and think that I peaked at 25? Maybe? I'll check back in when I'm thirty-two. Me being thirty-two. Now, that might even be scarier than my five year awkward stage.