In Honor of Leap Year

Yours Truly in...gasp...Junior High School! 

Today I can pretend to be 14.5 years of age instead of 58. Wait. 

I don't want to be fourteen and a half. 

I remember that age. 

Braces. Zits. Oily bangs. More zits. 

Oh, and don't forget, the obligatory hose, 

Nicely Nude Hose to be exact. Yes, hose.

There are some things that are best left in the past. 

And sorry, Kate Middleton, that's one of them.

Penny loafers. Bass Weejuns.

Villager shirtwaist dresses with Peter Pan collars.

Dirndl skirts.

Twin sets.

Eye make-up that I had to remove before

I got home because I was only allowed to wear a little blush, some Bonne Belle powder, 

and a light lip gloss called Yardley Light Shimmer.

But definitely no mascara and absolutely no eye-liner. 

Little did my mother know that I had the most beautiful Cleopatra eye thing going. 

Really. 

But each day at 7th period, I trudged into the bathroom and emerged once again with naked eyes.

It was my idea of obedience. 

I was dying for pierced ears, but my mother would not budge.

 There really wasn't any way that I could get around that one.

I certainly don't miss the insecurities, 

my embarrassing lack of physical coordination 

(something I have yet to escape),

 the endless girl drama, the wish for some boy drama,

the longing to be accepted,

and the smile that I pasted on my face every day.

I definitely don't wanna go back. No siree.

I'll take fifty-eight any day over fourteen and a half.

So long leap year. 

Next time you roll around I'll be 16. 

Now that's a different story, but you'll just have to wait until then to get the scoop.

A lot can happen in four years.