Coming from a little St. Charles, I knew the transition into high school wouldn’t be an easy one. I was used to uniforms and the same people every hour of the day for the past nine years. No one wore “slutty” clothing and make up was banned. Relationships were rare, but when did occur it had nothing to do with looks or sexual advances. It was based solely on how the two personalities clicked.

I met my first boyfriend there. I loved him. Everything about him. He was funny, crazy, sweet, and he loved me too. Sure, he wasn’t the best looking, but I didn’t care. I had more fun with him than anyone I had ever met. We spent every minute at school together and made totally lame jokes, but no one made fun of us or cared. We would play football in the courtyard everyday after school, and I would run around all sweaty and muddy and I didn’t care. I had never been happier with my hair in a ponytail, no make up on my face, and grass stained knees. I actually think that was how he liked me best.

We dated up until eighth grade. He had a rough home life and his mom had just announced they were moving back to Chicago to live with her parents. The minute he told me this, my life was changed. I couldn’t believe the person who I was so happy with for the past two years was suddenly being ripped out of my life. We still tried, but eventually just gave up because of the distance.

I started high school the next year. I figured it would be different than eighth grade, but nothing huge. To my shock, I walked in on the first day dressed like I always did with little to no make up to find everyone else dressed in mini skirts, low shirts, and a face full of make up. For the first time I was humiliated and felt not good enough. Still, I didn’t change. Over the first few weeks I fell for this boy in my English class. He was cute and seemed funny; however, when I made a move on him, he laughed at me and hinted that he doesn’t go for “girls like me.” That night I went home and decided it was time for a change. I went tanning, bought new clothes, and wore a lot more make up. Within the next few weeks, I got a message from him asking to hang out. Without ever even meeting me, he decided he liked me just because the way I now looked. When I heard this I was temporarily happy, but I realized this was how it was going to be for the next four years of my life. I would be judged not on what I presented out of my mouth, but what was presented on the outside.

I realized only the pretty, popular girls got the boyfriends and everyone else was made into a laughingstock. I became someone I said I never would and made myself fit the datable mold. It had given me temporary happiness, but I realized the standards I made myself meet up to no longer fit the ones I set for myself. Living that way would never give me that muddy, courtyard football, true happiness.