When I was a teenager, I was ridiculous.
My hair was so big, it took me 2 hours to be perfectly coiffed for school. I wore Madonna-esque net stockings and fingerless gloves. I donned neon colours and wore jeans so tight I had to zip them while laying down. I worried about whether my friends were my friends because someone passed a note in Mr. Lane’s class that said that someone had said something….I wondered if I boy I liked would knock my books out of my arms in the skywalk (the universal sign for liking a girl). I wondered if anyone would know I still listened to “Sunglasses at Night” in my little white and pink ghetto blaster, even though it was no longer cool. I ‘whooped’ and screamed at events. Why? Because I was ridiculous.
I oozed ridiculousness and that’s the beauty of youth – the ability to be ridiculous – while thinking one is especially important.
What a gift. To be young and ridiculous.
I wore a mini skirt and fishnet stockings in -30 weather while I was standing out waiting for a bus. We weren’t allowed to wear pants to school in my day but I could have worn snow pants for the bus ride and taken them off when I arrived at school. But snow pants weren’t cool in my “ridiculous’ teenage mind.
You were Ridiculous! Love it.
I ran up to the new boy in town, the boy surrounded by his buddies, the boy who every girl in our class was madly in love with, and thrust a store bought honest to God expensive mushy Valentine’s Day card into his hand, turned and ran. I was ridiculous, what was I thinking, and he was way shorter than me too thus making it that much worse.
I love it…so ridiculous!