Tweenage Humiliation 😳 & Three Life-Changing Things Under $30 [Like You Know Whatever]

Hi friends!

How are you? I’m doing pretty well! Since my last missive, in which I talked extensively about my sleep problems, I’m happy to report that I’ve reduced my caffeine intake to below a human threshold and purchased some melatonin gummies that have been very helpful in regulating my sleep. Not perfect, but helpful. Man, I don’t know how parents of infants and young kids do the sleep-deprivation thing for years on end. After one night of tossing and turning, I want to take off the rest of the week on account of acute sleepiness. It’s pathetic, I know, but I never claimed to be tough.

One piece of feedback I got in the reader survey that I did a few weeks ago was from a subscriber who said that they liked that I was a real person, “with good and bad qualities.” I know: I was completely offended–me? Bad qualities? What could those possibly be? Then I immediately recalled that I had just published five paragraphs about being such a bad driver that I’d repeatedly bashed my car into a cement pole. Hmm. Perhaps one would consider that, ah, not exactly a sterling personality trait, shall we say.

Lucky for all of you who enjoy that kind of thing, this newsletter also features a story in which some of my lesser qualities are on display. Specifically, my tweenage obsession with hacking popularity. As you might guess if you’re familiar with literally anything about me, I did not do well in middle school. Not with the guys, not with the gals, not with the anyone else, who were surely closeted at the time, since we lived in a conservative little corner of New Jersey. This story is about how I used my wits and creativity to… majorly embarrass myself. It’s also an excerpt from the humorous memoir that I’ve been writing. Let’s just get into it, and then you and I can catch up afterwards, okay?

Dancing With Myself Or: My First Job Interview

Middle school was a difficult time for me. It’s a difficult time for many kids, but I was the kind of kid who wore t-shirts with tree frogs on them that I’d gotten for free at the environmental fair, and brought Anastasia Krupnik books to school to read for fun. Even worse, I didn't understand why nobody was down with that. It was like everyone was friends in fourth grade, and then when I showed up to fifth grade, the rules had completely changed.

The thing is, it's not that I didn't know what was cool at the time. I was very into pop culture; I read Teen People and YM religiously, and I never missed TRL after school. But somehow, my attempts to use my knowledge of pop culture for popularity always missed the mark. For example, I remember one homework assignment where everyone in my class had to present a book report on a biography, with extra credit for dressing up. I knew I'd get made fun of if I did some dork like Amelia Earhart or Eleanor Roosevelt (plus those costumes sounded way too involved and expensive for my family to afford), so I chose the unauthorized biography of the Spice Girls. If there was anyone cooler in 1998 than the Spice Girls, well, I certainly didn't know who the fuck they were. I showed up for class dressed up as Sporty Spice in my high ponytail I’d spent hours practicing, and my knock-off Adidas track pants (my family could only afford two stripes instead of three), and I was ruthlessly mocked with sarcastic shouts of, "Girl Power!" I was baffled by the negative reception—how could I have possibly done a better job? I'd even read my report in a British accent!

Popularity became an obsession, this shiny, glittering prize that always felt just out of my reach. Middle school seemed so much easier for the popular girls, the cheerleaders whose chunky highlights never seemed to frizz, whose baby tees from Abercrombie & Fitch never wrinkled. If only I could figure out how to be popular, I thought, my whole life would be different, better, easier. I was in the gifted program AND the advanced art club; surely a kid like me with brains and a love of the arts could find a creative solution to this popularity problem!

One day, in eighth grade, I had a brilliant idea. I would join the Modern Dance club, the sexiest and most elite after-school activity at Long Valley Middle School. Every year, the club would perform choreographed dances to *NSYNC and Britney Spears songs at an assembly for the entire seventh and eighth grade classes. There were costume changes, there were matching leotards, there were props like scarves and ribbons. In my mind, it was the most erotic experience of a middle school boy's life. And I was going to be a part of those ill-timed boners.

To get into the club, you had to pass an audition where you performed an original choreographed dance in front of a panel of female gym teachers. It was nothing to phone in. Most girls auditioned in groups of three or four, and performed dances they’d done at cheerleading competitions. I knew that I would definitely be auditioning solo. I had never taken a dance class in my life, and knew based on my experiences in rec soccer, softball, and basketball that I wasn't very athletic. But I also knew I was smart, and my parents always told me I could do anything I set my mind to. I mean, Jessica Simpson could dance, and we all knew that that girl wasn’t too bright. Plus, I could teach myself things: I taught myself HTML so I could make my own Hanson fan-fiction website—I could definitely teach myself how to dance!

I knew that since I was an unknown in the modern dance world, I would really have to wow the judges with something different. Luckily, I had the perfect song. It was just the right combination of edgy, sexy, and a little dangerous, and it had just been featured in Coyote Ugly, the coolest dance movie of our time. It was Kid Rock's "Cowboy."

I spent weeks practicing my routine in my bedroom, really trying to nail it. This was way before YouTube, so I couldn't just go online and watch the "Cowboy" video. Instead, I'd sit in front of MTV for hours, hoping the video would come on. I ended up taking dance moves from whatever I was watching, it didn't matter if it was an iconic part of the "Genie in a Bottle" video. Obviously, rubbing your hands together like you're trying to summon a genie was a perfectly versatile dance move!

On the day of the auditions, I was nervous. I'd decided to set the tone by dressing like Kid Rock in a white wife-beater and a fake gold chain, hoping there would once again be extra credit for dressing up. My friend Lisa was auditioning with me, and we both knew we were long shots, but what I realized watching her dance to Janet Jackson's "I Get Lonely," was that unlike me, she was actually really good at dancing. Lisa moved like a fourth member of Destiny’s Child; I moved like a dying Furby. As I watched girls with tap and ballet training take their turns, I realized that most people weren’t there to become popular, but because they actually liked the activity. How had it escaped me up until that point that the dance club was actually for people who wanted to dance?

Then it was my turn. I took a deep breath, stepped out to the center of the cafeteria slash auditorium, and waited for someone to hit "play" on the boom box. When the first crispy blues harmonica riff of "Cowboy" hit, I launched into my carefully practiced routine. I... mostly remembered it! The parts that I forgot, I just filled in with dance moves I'd seen in Lisa's audition minutes before, or I simply rolled my fists around each other in a circle. I threw an invisible lasso in the air, I head-banged during the bridge, and I finished it all off with a big move where I jumped into a jazz split, which is basically an easier, modified version of a split where you have one leg bent underneath you. Even that was too difficult for me, and I had to half-ass an already half-assed move. Whatever, the details don't matter—somehow, kicking and flailing, I made it to the end of the song.

There was something strangely clarifying about listening to the song in front of other people. Even though I'd played it over and over again while practicing my dance, I'd never really paid attention to the lyrics. They suddenly seemed extremely inappropriate. The CD I'd brought in was the parental advisory version of Devil Without a Cause that I'd had to sneak to Sam Goody to buy while my mom was in the dressing room at JCPenney, and there were lyrics about pimps, crack, hookers, going to "Cali-porn-I-A," and cocaine references like "lock me up and snort away my key" that I wouldn't get until certain parties in college. I saw my gym teacher visibly wince when Kid yelled, "Rock that bitch up and down the coast!"

After watching all the other girls audition, I wasn't feeling too optimistic about my chances of making the club. It didn't help that Lisa's only feedback on my routine was, "The gym teachers didn't seem to like all the cuss words." I resigned myself to another year of tree frog t-shirts and Lois Lowry books. At least I'd be in high school soon.

The day after auditions, Lisa came running up to me in the hall, excited. "Liz, they posted the Modern Dance list! Did you see?"

"No! I didn't think I made it. Did I get in?"

"Everybody got in!" she said. And that's how I got to be in one dance at the Modern Dance assembly, in a rockin' leotard, all the way at the back, swaying to the sexiest song of all time, the Beach Boys' "Surfing USA." It most definitely did not make me popular, but I realized that I didn’t have much in common with the popular kids, anyway. I mean, why was I trying to befriend a bunch of people whose lives revolved around athletic activities, when I spent most of my life plotting ways to get out of gym class? My idea of a good time was holing up in my bedroom with a guitar and writing a parody song about the science teacher.

The next year, in high school, I formed a whole bunch of new friendships based on a shared sense of humor and taste in rock music, and a lack of fear of standing out. The people we are deep down tend to come out one way or another. Why fight the weird kid who puts too much effort into offbeat creative projects? Why not embrace her instead? Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be a Kid Rock instead of a Sporty Spice after all. While I don’t care for his politics, the dude seems pretty happy, and certainly comfortable in his own skin. And nobody’s ever expected him to know how to dance.

Wow! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed that. Look forward to my memoir Painfully Employed: Stories About Day Jobs and Other Modern Horrors coming out as soon as I finish writing it, write a book proposal, get an agent, sell it, and publish it! So basically: any day now!

While you’re here, let me recommend three things under $30 that have changed my life for the better:

1. Laneige Lip Sleeping Mask. I heard someone in the beauty world recommending this product who raved that it was “only $24.” I don’t know about you, but that’s pretty expensive for a lip product for me. Let me also say this: no one NEEDS a lip mask. It’s a luxury product by definition. However, if you feel like treating yourself, I will say that my lips have NEVER been this soft in my entire life. When I put this on before I go to bed, my lips are moisturized the entire next day, I barely need lip balm anymore. Another bonus is that a little bit is very effective, it’s probably going to take me a year to get through this jar, as small as it is. I also like that it comes with a completely impractical, teeny tiny applicator that I am amazed I haven’t lost already. It comes in many different scents if you don’t like the strawberry smell (I’m not sure if they’re “flavors,” I try not to eat my lip products?). A lovely treat!

2. Get It Together File Folder. I know that an accordion file may not be the sexiest rec I’ve ever made, but hear me out. This is a life hack that I actually stole from my mom. She has always had an accordion file full of cards for every occasion: birthday cards, sympathy cards, thank you cards, congrats on your wedding cards, etc., etc. In the past few years, I have totally stolen this idea, using one of these cute files from Bando. It is SO helpful to me as a lazy person who hates going to the pharmacy! Also, sometimes you’re in a pinch and just don’t have time to run to the store. Whenever I do have time or am in a cute stationary store, I stock up on cards and file them away for later. And then, when it’s three days before someone’s birthday and my phone totally forgot to remind me, I can just grab a card from this file and run it out to the mailbox. Life: #hacked!

3. Tabletop Lighted Makeup Mirror. I used to be someone who hovered over the bathroom sink to do my makeup, so this tabletop mirror has been a game changer! I can get so much closer to it (see: more precise eyeliner), and it has built-in lighting, which is of course very helpful as well. I also find it helpful to have both hands free while doing my makeup, instead of having to hold a hand mirror with one hand. The one thing I will caution you against is torturing yourself with the ultra magnifying portion of the mirror. No one will ever see you that up close and in that much detail, not even sexual partners. Seriously, try getting super close to someone’s face sometime; your eyes unfocus wayyy before you can see into their pores on an atomic level like this mirror can. It is also portable if you choose to use batteries instead of a cord! I’m obsessed!

In other news, my parents are coming out to Los Angeles to visit me and my husband this weekend, so, naturally, we’ve been in a cleaning frenzy. This is the first time they’ll be seeing our “new” (as of 2021) apartment, and, honestly, it’s just been a good excuse to declutter. I threw out five garbage bags full of clothes! We can actually see the top of our dresser now! (I meant to donate more clothing, but honestly, most of it was pretty wrinkled, dirty, or just worn out. I wouldn’t want to subject others to that.)

Before I go, I have a favor to ask. I am working on an additional, downloadable benefit for premium subscribers (that means you!), and I’m wondering what YOU would like to see? Here are some of my ideas:

1. An exclusive story or personal essay (like the one above)

2. The template that I use for outlining screenplays and pilots

3. Tips on writing short humor/satire from an editor’s perspective

4. A basic astrology “vibe check” for every sign

5. My best (and snarkiest) wedding planning checklist

What do you think? What appeals to you?

Is there anything else that’s not on this list that you’d like to see? Hit reply or comment and let me know, please and thank you!

Okay, that’s all she wrote! Thank you SO much for being a paid subscriber, it truly means the world to me to have your support! If you’re new here, you can find the previous months’ premium newsletters here and here.

Until next time—rock that bitch up and down the coast!!

Love,

Liz

XOXO