Member-only story
Four-Eyes
The song of the awkward girl
I don’t recall struggling to see the chalkboard in class, but my teacher told my parents she saw me squinting. To be fair, my dislike of being in the splash zone drove me to the back of the classroom, from where I eagerly pumped my hand into the air to offer the answers, but also had to squint to make out the teacher’s treacherousness handwriting.
That wasn’t enough for Teacher (or perhaps she sought revenge on me for making a comment about her chalkmanship), who took it upon herself to tell my parents that I needed to see an eye doctor. Naturally, they listened, and so my journey as a Four-Eyes began.
I was excited at first, for some reason. Hey, it was something new, even if it was socially devastating. We spent hours choosing frames after the eye doctor decided that my vision could use some enhancement. My first pair of glasses was a charming tortoiseshell that actually brought out my eyes.
My peers didn’t think so. Apparently, Southern kids have perfect hair, skin, and eyes, and indeed many of my classmates were never afflicted by the acne, gangly limbs, and poofy that the universe promised. Meanwhile, I slowly became uglier, as my blonde hair turned brown, my knees knobby, and my teeth crooked. Now I had glasses to boot. Add in a bad haircut and braces, and I was that stereotypical awkward girl…
