I tried being a Mean Girl.

Adolescence is like a prolonged version of Halloween.
A devastating period that feels like an endless masquerade ball.

You have roughly six years to try on each type of outfit, different masks, different colors and themes. And, so does everyone else; one day your friend is playing the role of "book worm" the next day she's playing the role of "floozy giving blow jobs in the bushes."

We all tried different suits, I never really pulled off the floozy suit cause I was way to awkward- 5'6 since I was 12, two sets of braces, and a brief period of wearing glasses that were almost consistently broken or crooked. Floozy's usually get the cleavage shading around 8th grade, and are blessed with naturally straight teeth and thick hair. You know, the kind of hair that makes incredible ponytails. Pantene ponytails.

So in sixth grade I tried; The Mean Girl Suit. I perfected my cackle, wore the best of Limited Too clothing and had a gaggle of followers.
One particularly dark day of my existence occured during lunch break over funnel cakes and Pizza Hut.... just like a beaming light of opportunity, I saw Scott Ferguson coming my way.
I would like to give myself a disclaimer now and say that I am CONVINCED the Devil's helpers invaded my body and my judgment when I saw him walking towards me.

Scott was short, elfin short. Midge short. A little man, with hair almost as long as his height. He was a strange boy (he did have friends, they were strange too)....
I see him approaching, getting closer and closer...and just like that- I TRIPPED HIM.

I don't know what sort of laws of physics occured, but Scott didn't stumble, he launched. Launched like a fucking rocket on speed. He got enough air for me to count; one Mississippi, two Mississippi, Three Mississippi, Four Missi....thud.

Immediately I felt like repenting. Like dropping to my knees and saying 80 Hail Mary's. I felt like asking for forgiveness from the Pope himself in the middle of The Vatican. I am certain that on my Judgement Day, this will be at the top of the list in red marker and underlined three times; Tripping Scott Ferguson and wounding his soul.

He didn't even look at me, and I was too in shock to even react: laugh, cry, point. He picked himself up and scurried off like elfin people do.

Sometime after graduation I ran into Scott at my ex-boyfriends concert (I was wearing my "Rocker Girlfriend Suit"). Scott eventually cut his hair and turned out to be an awesome artist and a friend of many of my friends. This was my moment to appologize, I couldn't even look at him because guilt had plagued my black heart for years...
"Hey Scottttt!!!!!!"

"Heyyyy!" WOW, he's being unnaturally friendly to someone who made him do a face plant a such a vulnerable time of boyhood.

"I just wanted to let you know...I am SOOOOOO sorry for tripping you in 6th grade. It's been haunting me, and I feel horrible."

"What are you talking about?"
HE DIDN'T FUCKING REMEMBER! WHAT! I was asking God to allow me into Heaven for the past 5 years and you don't fucking remember? I almost wanted to trip him again. Or maybe my cruelty doesn't count since he's mentally blocked out the pain.

After that day I vowed to never be a Mean Girl again. To this day it is the meanest thing I've intentionally done to someone.
I tried on other suits though, after shedding my horrible bitch image:

Tagger/Breakdancer groupie Suit- You know it, I had a TAG name: Siren. I wrote it on about 3 stop signs and then felt like a scary criminal. "Juvie" is so not the place for me.

Cheerleader Suit- I learned one cheer and considered transferring schools to be a cheerleader (I went to an arts highschool, sports and cheerleaders didn't even exist there.) Then I realized before trying out that: the shoes were ugly, the girls were not of my same breed, and I wearing ribbons in your hair after the age of 3 is retarded.

Theater Geek Suit- I am. I know the words to almost every Broadway play. But the whole "seniority" thing when it came down to casting was enough to make me boycott every play that didn't give me the lead role. Especially when I was better.

Then I got tired. I got tired of trying to fit into different costumes. It was pointless. Ingenuous. Tiring. And no matter what role you try to play there wasn't room to be anything else, or anything beyond the rules of the suit you wore.
So, the middle of tenth grade I said- "Fuck this." And homeschooled. I am so glad that I did....I started wearing my own suit, with my own ideas, my own values, my own likes, and eccentricity. I found what I wore best before everyone...and it didn't need a label or explanation.

I'm not the only one who was stuck in this neverending costume change, what suits did you try on??