Middle school was not easy for me, for several reasons, but mostly because I looked like this:
Oh, girl. Just. . . . no.
I have blocked out most of it, because it was awful. Y’all think kids are mean in general? Try looking like that. I was 11 in that picture! Awful, though I did learn very early on that relying on my looks to get me through life was not going to be an option. Some stuff stays with me, like the octave my sister used when she sang “Bucky the Beeeeaaaaa-vah!” to me, or when my mother would ask me after a dental visit if they flossed between my front teeth with a rope. Yes, these actually DID happen.
So my oldest, the angel, is in third grade. She’s beautiful and will have none of the same issues that I had, and for that, I am simultaneously grateful and jealous. Her white-blonde hair and striking blue eyes make it obvious that she’s a combination of our best features, but put together in a way that allow her to look like neither her father, nor I.