High school was a confusing time. Still wrestling deep in the throes of puberty, still learning how exactly the basics of the body work. I mean, you're lucky if by the end of it you've mastered the art of the daily deodorant, am I right?

I gotta say, thank god I went to a high school with uniforms. If I hadn't, just the thought of the outfits I would've gone out the house in - oh, I cringe at my imagination. I mean, professional pants and logo'd polos still couldn't save me from the day I wore dark maroon lipstick and bright blue eyeshadow. Or the other day I did my entire head in mini-braids that looked kind of like fake dreadlocks from a distance, which I'd fastened with - oh, you should remember this - those tiny rubber bands your orthodontist would give you to hook on your upper/lower braces to align your jaw. Still, as soon as that 2:30 bell rang, I'd be pulling off my polo just to get out of the uniform, just to be wearing anything else. Hey, as soon as school was out, no one could stop me. I guess all I needed to turn me off of something was someone telling me I needed to be turned on to it.