Sees Like Teen Spirit
Sunday, 01 November 2009 13:57 | 
Author: James Pynn |
I couldn't stand being a teenager. The bath of awkwardness soaked me in pimples, erratic voice modulation, and unsightly hair growth. Having been a chubby child, I was not well-poised for these years. I wore huge glasses that would fog up all the time (it was like a magic trick -- without the magic). As the stress of my encroaching teens spun out of control, I found myself eating more and more.
I couldn't stand being a teenager. The bath of awkwardness soaked me in pimples, erratic voice modulation, and unsightly hair growth. Having been a chubby child, I was not well-poised for these years. I wore huge glasses that would fog up all the time (it was like a magic trick -- without the magic). As the stress of my encroaching teens spun out of control, I found myself eating more and more.
High school is usually the darkest time for most people, but for me, that was junior high. High school, for me, actually marked a new epoch -- a renaissance, if you will. Of course, it always helps to have an older sibling who can give you the scoop when it comes to survival tactics. In my case, it was my older brother. He laid out my three years and forewarned me of all the pitfalls and booby traps.
The summer before my freshman year I enrolled in martial arts to start trimming down. My brother took me thrift store shopping, helping me assemble an ensemble that veered between shabby chic and new wave prep. And because my brother was a favorite pupil of the coolest photography teacher in the district, I had a carte blanche in Mr. Davenport's class. I was cultivating a nonchalance, an ersatz swagger that was neither haughty, nor submissive. My only obstacle: my glasses.
On the verge of being part of the in-crowd, I'd be damned if my fog-prone specs were going to stand in the way. Glasses are like a haircut: one wrong slip can turn Dean Martin into Jerry Lewis. It was time to join the big boys and belly up to the contact bar. Slipping plastic discs onto my eyeballs wasn't a pleasant prospect, but it sure beat the foggy alternative.
Looking at my unfettered, teenaged face for the first time was eye opening -- literally. No more specs, no more fog. It was as if I had been transported into a new reality. A new body, new clothes, and now this. The hat-trick was complete and I have to say: high school was an absolute blast. It's amazing how a pair of contacts and a bottle of contact solution can change your life.
I couldn't stand being a teenager. The bath of awkwardness soaked me in pimples, erratic voice modulation, and unsightly hair growth. Having been a chubby child, I was not well-poised for these years. I wore huge glasses that would fog up all the time (it was like a magic trick -- without the magic). As the stress of my encroaching teens spun out of control, I found myself eating more and more.
High school is usually the darkest time for most people, but for me, that was junior high. High school, for me, actually marked a new epoch -- a renaissance, if you will. Of course, it always helps to have an older sibling who can give you the scoop when it comes to survival tactics. In my case, it was my older brother. He laid out my three years and forewarned me of all the pitfalls and booby traps.
The summer before my freshman year I enrolled in martial arts to start trimming down. My brother took me thrift store shopping, helping me assemble an ensemble that veered between shabby chic and new wave prep. And because my brother was a favorite pupil of the coolest photography teacher in the district, I had a carte blanche in Mr. Davenport's class. I was cultivating a nonchalance, an ersatz swagger that was neither haughty, nor submissive. My only obstacle: my glasses.
On the verge of being part of the in-crowd, I'd be damned if my fog-prone specs were going to stand in the way. Glasses are like a haircut: one wrong slip can turn Dean Martin into Jerry Lewis. It was time to join the big boys and belly up to the contact bar. Slipping plastic discs onto my eyeballs wasn't a pleasant prospect, but it sure beat the foggy alternative.
Looking at my unfettered, teenaged face for the first time was eye opening -- literally. No more specs, no more fog. It was as if I had been transported into a new reality. A new body, new clothes, and now this. The hat-trick was complete and I have to say: high school was an absolute blast. It's amazing how a pair of contacts and a bottle of contact solution can change your life.
About the Author:
Find the best solution to your contact problems in the shape of a bottle of premium contact solution. Rub clean the debris and protein-build up and see yourself with new eyes.