7th Grade. Gym class. Snotty, beanpole of a blonde chic we'll call AL. Everyday Al would make fun of me for wearing mismatching socks. Every. Day. The repetition gives you a small hint of her intelligence level. But I was what...13? Incredibly sensitive to teasing, I would feign nonchalantness by making my own snarky retort with the excuse that I was just too cool to match my socks. Ha. Take that popular girl. I'm cool.
Obviously scarred for life, I write this in a pair of matching socks. It's one of the few insecurities I carry with me from my schooling experience. The other? I will always be scared to death that someone will make a mess in the play kitchen and I'll get in trouble for it. OCD explained.
this explains a lot. like your irresistible attraction to men in mismatched socks.
ReplyDeletealso:
lady speed stick to man speed stick = definitely an upgrade.