October 31, 2015
I was thirteen years old once. Like most thirteen year olds do, I believed my world was coming to a crashing holt, and the end was near. I had braces with the blue rubber bands that month. That day after the Christmas party I was wearing my favorite black Beatles shirt (one of the two Abbey Road shirts I had alternated wearing every other day that December) with a pair of super slick brown plaid shorts to go along with it. Needless to say, I was the gem of everyone’s eye, the coolest chick you ever did meet. That last sentence was also known as false to everyone outside of my parents, my elementary school siblings, and my grandma. Most every one else said I needed to cut back on that ice cream a little.
I came home from the white elephant Christmas gift exchange with a heart that had fin…