Dressed to Impress

It was the summer of Abercrombie and Fitch, ironic trucker hats, over-sized sunglasses, and Paris Hilton...and I was about to start my Freshman year of high school. I had begged and pleaded with my parents all summer to let me attend public school- promising to attend youth group meetings every Sunday, in exchange for a chance to never have to wear a uniform or follow a frumpy dress code ever again. Not to mention, my two best friends, Zoë and Olivia, were in public school and I desperately wanted to be in the same school as them.

I had met Zoë a few years earlier, while playing on the city rec-league soccer team. She introduced me to Olivia, over the summer at our brother's baseball games. The three of us instantly became inseparable, like 14 year old girls tend to do. Despite our quick and seemingly unbreakable bond, I always felt a little on the outside. I was the only one in private school, and never knew anyone they talked about or were crushing on. To make matters worse, my dress code required khakis and button-up shirts. Not cool Abercrombie and Fitch polos, or American Eagle khaki bell bottoms...we didn't have the money for that. Mine were generally Old Navy clearance section, or second-hand and hideous.

My parents finally caved, with a list of rules and conditions that I barely listened to, but hurriedly agreed to. I did odd-jobs for my parents all summer long to make some money, so that I could buy new clothes for my new school, to fit in with my new friends.

During one of our sleepless slumber parties, Zoë and Olivia kept going on and on about a new mall that had just opened an hour away from us; rattling off every store it was supposed to have, and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the list of restaurants that would be there. We lived in a VERY small town, with one grocery store and a McDonalds, so everything was exciting to us. I knew I probably couldn't afford anything, but my awkward 14 year old self wanted so badly to go and be a part of this teen girl hysteria.

I was shocked when my mom suggested that we make a trip to the new, and now infamous, mall. Looking back on it now, I'm guessing she was eavesdropping outside my bedroom, while the girls droned on and on about the new Rainforest Café.

The day finally arrived! I ransacked my closet, and found one of the few pair of jeans I owned, a white shirt from 6th grade, that definitely didn't fit me anymore, and a pair of platform sandals I had fallen in love with at a garage sale- but didn't quite know how to walk in.

My mom and I drove to pick up the girls, and they complimented me on my outfit for the very first time! I finally felt like I was starting to fit in, and I couldn't wait for our day of shopping.

As soon as we got to the mall our mouths dropped. It was huge! We had never seen anything like it, and our excitement took over, as we ran to the entrance, completely bailing on my mom...because teenage girls are mean and inconsiderate monsters.

I tried keeping my cool, but within minutes I was struggling in my platform shoes. The girls kept nagging me to walk faster, and speeding ahead of me. I wanted to die, but instead I tried to turn my uneasiness into a "way-too-sexy for a 14 year old" walk.

After a few hours of shopping, we decided to grab some lunch at the massive food court. It was completely packed with back-to-school shoppers, and too many restaurants to choose from. My extreme social anxiety and teenage insecurities forced me to the salad bar. I wouldn't have to speak to someone and place an order, plus I wouldn't be judged for getting something too fattening. I bought a big salad and a drink, put it on my tray, and started my way-too-sexy stroll to a table in the middle of the food court, when it happened...I lost my footing, and stumbled over the giant platforms. My tray went up, and I went down. Well, because gravity does what it does, the salad and drink eventually came down on me too. There I sat, in the middle of the biggest food court in existence, surrounded by an audience of hungry shoppers, COVERED in salad, my white shirt now see-through. Trying to hold back tears, I looked up for help, and there were my two "best friends" laughing hysterically and pointing at my misfortune. I was mortified.

I tried to get up, run away and hide forever, but those damn platforms and my need to be cool, had caused me to twist my ankle pretty severely. My heart was pounding, my ankle was throbbing, and my face was the color of a tomato. Life as I knew it was over. I thought it couldn't get worse. Until my trusty "friends" sped up next to me with a shopping cart in tow.

"Get in!" Zoë commanded through clenched teeth.

"I can't move, my ankle is killing me," I mumbled, with tear-filled eyes.

Just then Olivia got down, and put her arm under my armpit and helped me up. Zoë came over, and put her arm under my other armpit, and they eached grabbed a leg, clumsily dropping me into the cart. They started pushing me through the mall, speeding as fast as they could, and laughing hysterically. Eventually, I started laughing too, thinking this could be a little inside joke, and we'd keep this little mishap between the three of us. Unfortunately, I tend to snort when I laugh to hard. When I say I tend to snort, I mean my laugh just turns into repetetive snort-noises one right after other, and my embarrassed and nervous self, tries to over-compensate by laughing harder. The girls couldn't handle their salad covered, see-through shirt wearing, farm animal friend, awakardly hanging out of a shopping cart. They spotted my mom at the Old Navy, and rashly shoved me into the store, knocking over a rack of micro-fleece vests. There it was: you can take the awkard girl out of private school, but you could never take the awkward private school out of the girl.