I Was a Cheerleader In High School: Hear Me Out Before You Judge...

Cheerleaders.

What’s your opinion of them?

I was a cheerleader in high school for a year and a half. Even now, when I tell people this I can see the judgmental wheels rolling in their heads because whether it’s good or bad everyone has some preconceived notions about what kind of person picks up the Pom-Poms.

It all really started at the end of 8th grade. I was ecstatic because instead of moving (like we thought we would have to) my dad was able to stay in San Antonio for one more year. At that time in my life, being 14, a year seemed like an eternity. Learning that I would be able to go to high school with Best Friend and all my other middle school buddies was the first time in my life I cried out of joy. And then, for the 2 millionth time, I winced in my awkward, early teenage skin when Best Friend decided I simply must join Pep Squad with her.

In the my high school in San Antonio anyone who wanted to tryout for cheerleading or dance team had to first complete a year of pep squad. This means that 250 9th grade girls all signed up to spend an entire year in Hell, just so they have the opportunity to then move up the social totem pole to Cheerleader or Dance Team… (dancer?). Now, there was absolutely no point for me to subject myself to the Year of Hell called Pep Squad. I knew I would be moving at the end of my freshmen year, so I wouldn’t even be around to try out for Dance Team. (Yeah, Dance Team because no way was I going to be a cheerleader.) But, Best Friend really wanted me to be on Pep Squad with her, because she knew at the end of the year she could practically walk onto Dance Team, so I did it. I wore the stupid Day Uniform to school (a cheerleading outfit with a really long skirt). I “danced” on the football field during half time. And by “dance” I mean I moved my arms very slowly and did like 1000 ball changes because the chorography couldn’t be too challenging… meaning 3 year old had to be able to do it. I put the bows in my hair and made the spirit gifts and smiled ALL THE FUCKING TIME, because I liked my Best Friend. Oh, and yeah… SOMETIMES, it was fun…

Just after I completed my freshmen year, pep squad and all, is when we moved to Germany and I was faced with the challenge of meeting people and making friends once again. Adding to my system, which had been devised and modified over the years, I decided that a great way to make friends would be to tryout for a sports team. My options were Volleyball, Tennis, and Cheerleading. Volleyball was immediately out. I couldn’t serve the ball over the net to save my life. So, I was left to tennis and cheerleading. I came to the conclusion that either would do. Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less which team I made as long as I made some team. Cheerleading tryouts were first. If I didn’t make the squad I would move on to tennis.

Tryouts were… um… interesting. I went to an American School on the military base we were stationed at. This means that 50% of my school left at the end of the year and at the beginning of the school year 50% of the school was new. Tryouts went a big mix of cheerleaders from the previous year, new students who used to be cheerleaders at their school back in the states, girls desperate to make the team this go around, and me who was just trying to strike up conversation with anyone who looked remotely nice and normal.

Girl Number 1: “Is it high V, low V, fist pump, raw?”

Girl Number 2: “No, I think it’s low V, high V, touchdown, go.”

Girl number 1: (addressing me) “Is the end a raw or a go?”

Me: “What? I don’t know? So… Where are y’all from?”

Girl Number 2: “What? Um, Virginia. So you weren’t paying attention to the ending?”

Me: “Nah, just do a kick and call it a day. So, what kind of movies do you like?”

Girl Number 2: “Yeah, I’m going to go over there now…”

Girl Number 1: “Oh, I think Girl number 2 just called my name. Later.”

Me: “Wait! I like all kinds… of…. movies… They are so not listening anymore. And now I’m talking to myself. Way to try and look cool Lemon Lady.”

Then I actually put my Pep Squad sharp arms to use and my years of just randomly stretching and sitting in the splits and I made the JV Cheerleading Squad.

Turns out being a cheerleader isn’t really hard. All you have to do is remember cheers, smile, and be okay with girls throwing you in the air or throwing other girls in the air. I made friends. None of them turned out to be the best friend I was looking for, but they were at least nice (to begin with) and I had people to eat lunch with and hang out with on the weekends.

What was hard was dealing with other people who resented me being a cheerleader. My school wasn’t big and rich so we only had one uniform (compared to my school in Texas where the cheerleaders had like 6) and we didn’t have T-shirts and sweatshirts and whatnot to wear to school on game days. All the football player wore their jerseys on game days so our coach made us wear our uniforms. Okay, honestly the very first game I was excited to spend the day wearing my uniform. I had tried out and made the team and hell yeah I wanted to walk the halls of Ramstein High School being proud of my accomplishments. Then, being we living in GERMANY, it got cold as shit and wearing a short skirt and sleeveless top was not all that fun anymore. I repeat none of us wanted to wear that damn skirt to school when it was snowing!

I will never forget the next conversation that happened on a very cold Friday while I was wearing my uniform to school because we had a football game the next day. Again, it was freezing and I was super cold and not in the mood to take shit from anyone, especially super annoying, upper classmen who thought they knew everything, in my computer class. I remember getting to class a little early and taking my seat at my assigned computer, waiting for Simon to get there and sit next to me and start up a conversation about Destiny’s Child. (I mean come on! Make fun of me for that! Make fun of me for the endless conversations we would have about Kelly Roland and the other chick Michelle and her awesomely bad solo in Survivor!) So, I’m sitting there waiting for class to start and in walks Upper Classman Mean Girl. She walks right by me, stops, then turns back around, rolls her eyes and says, “God. Every year you people have to wear your skirts shorter and shorter.”

Here’s what I should have said, “Oh, I’m sorry is the fact that I’m wearing something other than the old ratty College sweatshirt you’re wearing offending you? Maybe, before you start making people feel horrible about themselves for wearing something they don’t even want to be wearing, you should get your facts straight. You see it’s impossible for these skirts to be getting shorter year after year because they are the same F-ing skirts cheerleaders have been wearing year after year at this school (seriously you can Google my high school’s website and see pictures of cheerleader still wearing those same skirts). So no, the skirts aren’t shrinking and I’m sorry if you think you can see too much of my leg in them. Why don’t you take your condescending complaint up with my coach, Coach Meadows. Yeah, her. The meanest, most crazy women alive! You think I like walking to school in a short skirt when it’s 20 degrees outside? And, I like really walk to school… I don’t live in one of those buildings just on the other side of the football field, I live in Colonel’s housing way over by the BX! Yeah, I had to wear this dumb uniform while I walked a mile to school in 20 degree weather! (I’m sure it was uphill both ways, too.) So you and your wannabe Yale sweatshirt, “don’t I look nerdy but cool nerdy” glasses, and bad attitude can suck it!!!”

Here’s what I really said, “Yeah, it’s not really all that fun wearing this.”

God, I wish I could go back in time.

I tried out again for winter cheerleading and made varsity (because one of the varsity girls didn’t try out) and that was fun. Then the next year, my junior year, I cheered for football and then stopped. I realized while I was standing on the track during a football game, doing the same boring moves over and over again, that oh yeah I already have friends. I don’t have to do this anymore. So I stopped.

Things I learned while a cheerleader…

If you’re a flier (like I was) always shave your legs, because girls don’t like holding onto prickly ankles.

My coach never wore underwear and had false teeth. Both things we learned during our trip to England for a football game. We all wanted to steal her teeth during the night, but we were all way to scared of her.

If you lie down on your stomach and grab your ankles with your hands this helps your voice so that you are not to high pitch and annoying.

Running five miles two times a week and jumping A LOT makes your legs AMAZING!

Cheerleaders are not all whores, as I found out on the way to Heidelberg.

You can’t iron your cheerleading uniform on the highest setting or the heat will literally burn your skirt. (I really hope my skirt with the iron marks on the right hand side is still being worn today and still shows signs of the abuse I did to it with my mother’s iron.)

Always, Always, Always put Lemon Lady in the back of any dances. Even better if you can put a really tall girl in front of her.(Yeah, I’m a horrible dancer with little to no rhythm.)

Vaseline will not cure the black eye you will inevitably get when trying a new stunt and your bases decide to catch you with their fists.

You will have back pain for the rest of your life when you fall on the basketball court when they don’t catch you at all. Thanks Girls.

My Favorite Wedding Dresses Found By Facebook Stalking...

Yesterday I changed my Facebook status to this, “Over the years Facebook has allowed me to see a lot of ugly wedding dresses and it has allowed me to wonder how parents come up with names for their kiddos”. First of all, I don’t think this is a negative status at all. I love looking through my “friends” wedding pictures. Why? Because I’m not a black hearted bitch. Weddings are happy events. They are full of happy people and (hopefully) yummy food and lots of alcohol. Who doesn’t love a wedding? So, yeah, I don’t care if I only knew you for ten minutes in 7th grade, I will totally Facebook stalk your special day because I like weddings. You know what I like even more… happy people, yummy food, lots of alcohol and PRETTY DRESSES!!!

Here are some of my favorites… (In no particular order… well after the first one.)

First up, my sister… (Photo by Leeann Widyn. Check her out at www.widynphotography.com) I know I’m probably partial to this dress for two good reasons. One, she’s my sister. Two, my extremely talented, amazing, wonderful Grandmother made this dress. My sister is the kind of girl who had been planning her wedding her entire life. She is also the kind of girl who builds things up in her mind and sets very high expectations and then usually the event doesn’t reach those expectations and she is unhappy. (Just ask her about all her middle school dances.) To say the least, my mother was freaking out that her wedding wouldn’t be perfect. But, it was. And the icing on the cake was Sister’s wedding dress. Hand made by Grandma, read the tag on the inside. She had made my mother and my aunt’s wedding dresses and years later out did both of them with Sisters. I love the tulle peaking out at the bottom and the ivory color. I love the crumb catcher up top and the simplicity of the lace. Most of all, I love how absolutely gorgeous my sister looks.

This is my friend Stephanie from Germany… Again, I like this dress for two reasons. One, Stephanie is a huge personality! I feel like she could have gone completely crazy and over the top and fabulous and crazy and OMG, “Is that glitter on the train?” crazy. But she didn’t. Two, I love the cap sleeve detail. They are delicate and the beaded lace is beautiful and just enough to create a little drama and pizzazz.

Here we have middle/ early high school friend, Colette…(Photo by Graddy Photography. Check him out at www.graddyphotography.com 952-649-0525) Colette recently got married and I fell in love with her dress the moment I saw it pop up as a new profile photo. It’s so different and yet very classic. I’m not usually a big fan of the halter top, but I love, love, love the ruffle collar. The rest of the dress is very simple, letting it frame her face beautifully. Plus, look closely and you can see her amazing green shoes.

This is Best Friend…
First of all I was with Best Friend when she first tried on this dress and Best Friend’s Sister and I cried. It’s so… Best Friend, which is funny because I was honestly a little terrified about what she would pick to walk down the aisle in. I mean, we have been friends since she wanted to name her unborn children Denim and Lace. I was half picturing Disney Princesses throwing up tulle and chiffon until it made a dress, and then she walked out of the dressing room in this and I cried. She is so pretty, and it’s perfect for her. It’s flattering and unfussy. It has a big bow (throw back to 7th grade) and pockets (for her chapstick she never leaves home without). Plus, Best Friend’s Husband looks pretty handsome, too.

This is another friend named Stephanie… This one might be my favorite, if I had to pick a favorite and really I can’t because I like them all. Doesn’t she look like a ballerina from a little girl’s jewelry box? I love the ribbon at the waist with the sparkle detail and the rouching of the bodice. And the back… that bow is so cute. No, I’m not really sure why she is in a basketball court, but she looks amazing.

Lastly, Jessica… (I can’t believe I’m about to write nice things about you, you better love me forever after this…) I had to include this dress, because this is practically the dress I’ve always envisioned myself wearing on my wedding day. (Which makes me hate you even more…) It’s simple and sweet. I like the ribbon details that are present, but not crazy over the top. I went and dress shopping with my sister when she was still looking for the perfect dress (before she went to Grandma with fabric and an idea) and she found two dresses at a little boutique that she liked. She put one on and I put on the other so she could look at them side by side. The one I wore, was like the supped up, Scarlet O’Hara version of this dress. I like it in this much simpler, sweet version way better. Kuddos Jessica for looking lovely and crushing my dreams at the same time.

Another post to come soon about the second half of that Facebook post. I mean why would anyone name their kid Emma Olivia? It's like someone from my generation being names Jennifer Jessica.

MIA

Just FYI Internet friends... I will be be a little MIA for the next few days because Best Friend is getting married!!!

In a few days I'll be back telling embarrassing stories of myself and I promise to write about that guy Steven who gave a big FU to the rude man on the plane. Boyfriend and I have been wondering about the other guy. Seriously, think about it. Where is he? Why isn't he on Chelsea Lately and the Today Show? Our idea is to put them both in the stocks at Colonial Williamsburg and have them hash out their differences. Dialogue to come...

How I Manipulated my Best Friend into Becoming My Best Friend...

This story takes me back...

Remember a few days back when I posted the statistic that I moved homes every 1.8 years of my life. (I say statistic, but just like proof reading, math way never my strong point and I never actually took a statistic class, so really I’m just guessing that 1.8 years is a statistic. Wow.. math and English are not my fortes... how did I ever graduate college???) Anyway, all this moving does take a toll on a kid's personal life. By the time we moved to San Antonio I was a pro at starting school, making friendships, and finding a best friend because in a few short months I would need a shoulder to cry on when we found out where we would be off to next. I devised a system. I tested the system. The system worked*. Notice the system starts at “starting school”. We moved to San Antonio in May. School started the end of August. I have always done things my way and when I’m good and ready. My system for making friends would start in August when I started 7th grade at Stinson Middle School and not a moment sooner. I would spend the summer playing Lego's, making magazine collages, and playing on the Internet. I am also a person who enjoys being by herself. The summer was going to be so much fun! Yeah… then my mother kicked me out. She demanded I make friends with the other neighborhood kids. I panicked! These “other kids” we NOT part of my system. Who even knows if they are really kids??? Maybe they are aliens or Martians??? Who was my mother to throw me to the dogs. I just knew I would be eaten alive.

Okay, I know I’m exaggerating. In all reality I knew those kids weren’t from Mars. I was just scared shitless of having to make friends in front of my sister at the neighborhood pool. Sister is older, prettier, and totally had boobs. I shaved my eye brows right down the middle, had a one piece swimsuit from Limited Too, and didn’t know how to dive. On top of everything, I am the most awkward person I know at 25, wanna guess how awkward I was at 12??? I am shuttering just thinking about myself back then. I am awkward. Making friends is awkward. How was I suppose to do this in front of my very non-awkward, didn’t look like a native American, boob having sister???

I made friends and it was one of the most fun summers of my childhood. I hate it when parents are right.

By the time school started in the fall I had a few friends and some of them were even in my grade. I would know people on the first day of school! As much as this excited me, I knew I couldn’t let these kids interfere with my plan, with my system. Yeah they were great for the summer, but it was school time now. I had to stop playing with the fluff that was my summer gang and get down to the goods, a real best friend.

I spotted Best Friend on the first day of school. The good thing about being in mostly advanced classes is that the same kids are usually in every class. Best Friend was in all the honors classes I was ( English, science, and Texas History) along with taking Spanish and she was in Super Honors, Brainier Than You, Will Someone Compare us to Einstein Already math (AKA Algebra 1). I had found my new best friend. Now I just had to jump a few hurdles and get her to realize how fucking awesome I am!!!

Hurdle Number 1: Other friends. Other friends is always the hardest hurdle. They have known target friend longer, they have inside jokes, they are always weary of outsiders trying to prey on their friend. I must terminate all of them. You can’t just try to jump right into the being best friends with their best friend. They will not trust you. And 12 year old girls only like what their friends like. Therefore friends must like me. How do you get a group of 12 year old 7th grade girls to think you are the best thing since those little fake pets that lived inside your key chains… (What were those called Tamogachies? Tomupuchis? Something like that…) Become friends with boys, duh. I did this two ways. First, I became friends with President Boy. He was new to the school as well. He was in all our classes and had quickly made friends with “boyfriends” of the girls I needed to infiltrate. He was cute and funny, and fit perfectly into my plan. With his help I became one of the large group. (the large group is the group made out of the girls who surrounded my future Best Friend and the boys they “dated”) Secondly, who knew listening to my mother (okay being forced at gun point by my mother) to make friends during the summer would help in my evil, master plan of getting Best Friend, but having neighborhood friends proved to help me immensely. Who knew that neighborhood boy N was considered quite the hottie, and just being in his presence would spark an interest in me with the group of girls I needed to befriend.
“You know N Boy?”
“Sure we go way back” (way back to May of that year. A whole 2.5 months.)
“Wow… And he would hang out at your house?”
“Sure, for hours…” (more like he would ring the bell in a group on ten other neighborhood kids and we would all walk to the pool)
“Wanna sit with us at lunch?”
“Um… okay. I think I can do that.” (I’M SO IN!!! The lunchroom invite is like gold in Middle School. Once I got that invite, I had that group of girls just where I wanted them.)
“Muuuuhahahahaha” (Evil laugh)
“Why are you making weird noises?”
“Oh, um… just something caught in my throat… Sorry. (Fuck, Lemon, stop being weird! Quick say something cool…) Have you guys heard about that Titanic movie coming out??”

Hurdle Number 2: Making Best Friend realize I’m the coolest cat in the bunch. Now I’m not trying to toot my own horn or sound conceded, but I think I’m a pretty cool chick. Amateurs would jump right in, talking and insinuating their awesomeness to Best Friend. Huge mistake. One, this would alienate the group of friends I just spent a month trying to infiltrate. And two, I was in Middle school. In Middle school being your own person and all Rico Swave is suicide. The whole point of middle school is to get out of middle school. You can spend all the time you want in high school trying to be different and quirky. In middle school everyone is just trying to survive by blending in. This is where getting into Best Friend’s mind can be tricky. (If only I could break into layers of her dreams and plant an idea in her mind that I would make the perfect best friend… But alas we are in the time of Romeo and Juliet Leo not modern day Leo and that movie hasn’t been made, yet. Bummer.)

Likes, Dislikes, and Background information is crucial. Best Friend likes dancing, gel pens, K Swizz kicks. Best Friend hates mean boys, country music, and using a whole page of paper and still not having the answer to that IMPOSSIBLE algebra problem. Easy and Easier. Done and totally done”ier”. I like dancing, but I’m awkward and therefore you are so much better and could teach me. (Which sadly is true.) I FUCKING LOVE GEL PENS!!! (true. I still do.) They didn’t have K-Swizz tennis shoes in Alabama and honestly they might be the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously they disgust me. Now notice what I did here… First I complemented her because I think dancing is cool and I could learn from her. Secondly we both have a deep love for gel pens, especially the purple glittery ones. Lastly, as much as I look up to her dancing skills, and we have a similar writing utensil passion, I am my own person and don’t want to be just like her. I am different from all her K-Swizz loving minions. She could learn a little something from me. The exact same formula works for her dislikes. She hates mean boys.. “OMG! I hate mean boys, too! What a coincidence!” She doesn’t like country music… “Hey country music isn’t that bad maybe I could let you listen to some of my favorites.” She despises using a whole page of paper and still not having the answer to that IMPOSSIBLE algebra problem… “Hey, don’t feel too bad. I’m practically retarded when it comes to math. Also the answer is always 64.” This strategy along with some common background i.e. military families, older siblings, and deep passion for stickers was all I needed to become top dog on the friend wagon.

Hurdle Number 3: Getting Best Friend to admit I’m her best friend. A 7th grade girl’s mind revolves around one thing and one thing only, boys. The final piece to Best Friend’s heart is boys. Now this is when some people might make a mistake and want to bond over their mutual love of Hanson or Jonathan Taylor Thomas. Amateurs, all of them. While bonding over a mutual infatuation is an easy fix, that is not the way to hook a lifelong best friend. I got that best friend status only when I thought the complete opposite boys were the cutest. Middle school girls are shallow and self conscience, yes even Best Friend and me, and do not want any competition from another female… friends included. This amazingly genius idea, I have to admit, wasn’t mine. It happened completely by accident. She has horrible taste in boys**. I didn’t even have to pretend not to like any of her boyfriends because they were all creeps and kinda full of themselves. And, I never had to pretend I liked the older brother from Home Improvement more than super hunk JTT, because I really did think the older dude was cuter. (Until he did that slicked back ponytail, shave the side of your head look.) We were total best friend soul mates.
“Lemon you are one spectacularly bad ass chick, and you totally understand me. We should be best friends, and do you want to sleep over this weekend?”
“Wow! You want me to sleep over? And best friends? Are you sure… This is totally unexpected…”


*The only time the system didn't work was when we lived in Alabama for 10 months. People in Alabama, even 11 year old girls, are FUCKING INSANE and the system just couldn't handle the crazy racism and "southern belle" thing.

**This statement has applied to almost every boyfriend Best Friend has ever had, and she’s had a whole bunch. I’m not saying she’s slut or anything, but why would I be best friends with an ugly girl. The only exception to this rule is Best Friend’s Fiancé. He’s totally a keeper, and the only boyfriend of hers I’ve ever really liked.