But I couldn't find the key! IT WAS A DIRE(Y) EMERGENCY. (See what I did there?)
I was frantically searching through boxes when Brian said,
"What are you looking for? Your diary key?"
"Yes! I'm dying to know what's in there."
"Oh, just hand it to me."
A quick snip with wire cutters, and Brian had unlocked all my middle school secrets.
I guess I should have focused more on security and less on colored ink and swirly penmanship.
Please allow me to set the stage for you. The protagonist in our story is a young teen named Amanda.
She has a spiral perm, teased bangs and buys Aussie Scrunch Spray by the case. She wears two Swatch Watches, canvas Keds, and carries a Liz Claiborne purse. She begs her Mom to buy her a tote that says Esprit on it just because it says Esprit on it.
All she does is eat. Whoppers. Whole pizzas. Dairy Queen. But she only weighs 70 pounds.
Gah, I hate her.
She's embarrassed because she's too skinny. She's embarrassed because her lips are too big. She's embarrassed because she said something stupid like "hi" to the cute boy in the hallway. She's embarrassed because she's always so embarrassed.
She's painfully aware of how awkward she is and has trouble fitting in.
She worries about everything: What she'll wear to Amy's birthday party. What song will be used for the next cheerleading dance. Is Family Ties really going to be cancelled?
She hands out the word "love" like Lindsay Lohen hands out crack rocks at a party.
She doesn't have a freaking clue about life or responsibility or what is yet to come. Bless her heart.
The antagonist in our story is, well, the rest of the world. Why? Because she's in middle school.
Her family. Her friends. Her acquaintances. Her teachers. Molly Ringwald. Emilio Estevez. That girl in the Reebok commercial. They are all quiet reminders of her insecurities and low self-esteem.
Here are a few pages.
...................................
WARNING LABEL.
The grammatical errors in this book haunt me like the Ghost of Idiot's Past.
What belongs to the word belong's? The world may never know. And I can't figure out why I was so interested in this "dairy". Is there a field trip? Are we going to a farm? Are we going to milk cows?
No thanks. I'd rather stay at home and make friendship bracelets.
.....................................................
SPEAKING OF FRIENDSHIP...
Awwww! Remember when your biggest problem was deciding between a full extension and a basket toss for the halftime routine? Man, those were the days! Days when I didn't have to worry about insignificant things like the world's economy, my family's happiness or the results of my next mammogram.
I'm surprised that my friend and I made up so quickly, though. I take my cheerleading pyramids very seriously.
........................................................
LOVE OR SOMETHING LIKE IT.
Oh, honey. We all feel that way when we're 13-years-old. But it gets better, I promise. One day, you'll grow into those skinny legs and big lips. And the minute you do, you'll learn that it doesn't matter anyway. There's more to life than dating the football quarterback.
Soon, you'll realize that you're an honest, intelligent, young woman with an entrepreneurial spirit and a kind heart, and you've got a place in this world. You're going to meet somebody wonderful. You're going to have children. You're going to have a great career. Life will be amazing.
And, hey, maybe you'll even start a blog one day. Hopefully you'll learn how to spell the word "maybe" first.
.............................
POP CULTURE.
Great. Now I'll be singing that stupid Debbie Gibson song for the rest of the day.
Oh, sorry. That DEBORAH Gibson song. I guess she grew up, too.
............................
DATING.
Oh, sweetie, don't let having a boyfriend determine your self-worth. This will be the first of many broken hearts, but all of them will serve a purpose.
They will teach you about the type of man you are looking for. They will teach you about the type of man you are not looking for. And ultimately, they will lead you to the true happiness that you find when you're REALLY OLD AND CRUSTY, like, you know, 29.
See how I wrote "this will last a long time" in my diary? Well, let me end the suspense for you now: It lasted until the next journal entry. Then that relationship lasted until the next journal entry. And then that... well, I think you get the point.
.........................................................
BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO.
Don't worry, y'all. By the next journal entry, I was leaving that necklace on his doorstep and saying something like, "Oh yeah? Well, I want my Whitesnake cassette back, too."
................................................................
PARENTING A MIDDLE SCHOOLER.
Remember when "dating" was sitting on the opposite side of the movie theater from your parents?
At that age, we're just emotional hot messes who want to be adults but aren't ready. And as a result, tears are shed, doors are slammed, and you have to apologize to your mother for it when your 25.
I'm strongly considering having this page bronzed to preserve it for my daughter. SEE, Granna said that I was acting inappropriately and she was right. Because mothers are always right. REMEMBER THAT.
............................
Hey, are you still singing that Debbie Gibson song? Yeah, sorry.
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