I don't think I have to mention again how nerdy I was in Jr. High, but I will anyway just so you can be in awe of how resilient I am.
I read a million books a week, leaving me little time to learn how not to be socially awkward or study the fashion advice in teen Vogue.
Among other wardrobe miscues such as the Starter Jacket and overalls, I desperately wanted a poncho. A loud, obnoxious, wooly poncho.
I don't know if I was planning on wearing it with my rainbow laced Pumas or my gramma version Teva sandals. Either way, I was convinced a poncho was my way to dig myself out of the social hole I fell into at the end of 6th grade.
Luckily, I was never given that chance.