Middle School.

Pretty much everyone I know complains that their middle school days were the worst of the worst. Full of braces, ugliness, and just plain awkwardness, I don't think they treated anyone well. But I can promise you this: No one's days in middle school- NO ONE'S- can top the tremendously horrible nature of mine.

Reason #1: I looked like the vomit of a decomposing squirrel. I think this picture speaks for itself. No explanation needed.

Reason #2: Believe it or not, I was even more socially awkward than I am now. Let's take a brief journey back in time to the infamous Homewood Middle School 7th grade Winter Dance. As Taylor Swift's "Love Story" began to play, I anxiously looked around the room, waiting for my true love to approach me and ask me to dance. My love never came. Completely devastated and convinced that I would be forever alone, I forced my way through dozens of slow-dancing couples and retreated to the corner of the cafeteria. That's when I laid my eyes upon The One. I fell in love with him the moment I saw his long, skinny body propped up against the wall. His luscious, gray locks, still wet from a shower, beckoned me closer. As I moved towards him, I caught a whiff of his cologne; it smelled like bathroom cleaning products. Caught in a trance of love, I cut to the chase. "Do you want to dance?" I whispered to the....the.... mop. Yes, I slow-danced with a mop. It happened. We're moving on now.

Reason #3:  As you can tell from the photo above, I was up to date on all of the latest fashion trends. I am at a loss for words. One day in 6th grade, I was walking down the hall with one of my friends. Wearing cargo shorts and Birkenstocks, I was definitely dressed to impress. Suddenly, she blurted out, "Do you ever look at someone and think WHAT are they wearing?!" "Yeah," I replied, "totally..." Then she stopped dead in her tracks, looked me in the eyes, and said "I was talking about you, Madison. I was talking about you." I burned my prized Birkenstocks that night. Many tears were shed over their death.

Reason #4: I wore my volleyball spandex down to my knees. No, my entire team did not do this. Yes, it was just me. I was made fun of, yet I still persisted to stretch them to a length equivalent to that of a 65 year old Amish woman's skirt. No picture of this will be provided, for it might burn holes into your retinas.

Reason #5: Bad luck followed me everywhere I went. Since we were just on the topic of volleyball, I'll use an according example. It was the biggest game of the year, and all of the 7th grade football players had come to watch our game after their practice. While other girls were making sure to bend down to tie their shoes right in front of the boys, I was pulling my spandex further down to my ankles. In this game, my coach had me starting as the middle hitter/blocker. With my 1'9 frame, I was obviously the perfect fit for the position. As the whistle blew, the other team served the ball to us, my teammate passed the ball to the setter, and the setter prepared to set the ball to me. The boys were cheering. My heart was pounding. I thought to myself I'M GOING TO KILL THIS BALL AND ALL OF THE BOYS WILL LOVE ME. Gotta love my optimism. As the set was put up into the air, I began my approach. I jumped into the air and lifted my arms to swing through... Aaaaand I missed. I swung at the air, the volleyball hit me in the head, and I fell on the ground. Everyone laughed. The boys booed. I got taken out of the game. It was mortifying. Needless to say, none of the football players fell in love with me that night. Or any night in middle school. Or ever.