The wanna-be cheerleader

Let's get right to the point: I was NOT popular in high school.
I kinda got used to the idea that while everyone knew who I was, no one really cared.
Case in point: I desperately wanted to fit in and be included, so I joined the Spanish Club, Student Congress, the varsity tennis team, SADD, and so many other clubs that by the time I graduated, I had a resume two pages long.
But I was not like the other kids. I had very strict parents (hello Mexican Dad!), had never tried smoking, didn't know what pot smelled like, didn't have my first boyfriend until I was 16, never went to parties, and thought that the boys were looking at me funny because I was fat and not because I had curves that were about 10years older than I was.
So I guess you could say I was a bit naive. Okay, a whole lotta naive. And because I didn't "get" what I did have, I always wanted what I didn't. I secretly hated and envied the cheerleaders for their popluarity, boyfriends, and seemingly carefree ability to make sweating look cute.
I mean, come on!
Another good example is the day when one of the cute and popular football players who's locker was next to mine complimeted me on my clothes one day. He did the whole-lean-into-the-locker-and touch-my-shoulder-with-his-free-hand-thing, and instead of cashing in and smiling demurely and possibly getting into the popular crowd by association, I blew it by rambling on for about five minutes about how it was actually my Dad's shirt and he let me borrow it and I kinda added accents and stuff to make it look like my shirt and my dad didn't even realize it was his shirt when I left the house that morning and...
Yeah, get my point? Because by this time, Cute Football Player was already walking down the hall shaking his head. Later that week, he and Pretty Transfer Student were the new hot couple in school and I was banging my head on my locker door.
But anyway, it took me until like, yesterday to figure out that I didn't need to fit in. Just accept myself for who I am. Of course, that is easier said than done, and no teenager is ever going to figure that out WHILE they are a teenager, right?
And from discussions I have been having with fellow mom bloggers at The Mom Blogs forum, I have learned that it's kind of the same premise with blogging. See, I want to be the Funny Blog that everyone goes to for a gauranteed laugh, but unlike others who already know who they are, my "gems" are not an everyday occurance. And then I find the Popular Witty Blog that makes me wonder if I should change the tone of my writing and have to remind myself that if I was that witty, I wouldn't be worried about forcing it. And when I come across Everybody and Their Mother Has Left a Comment on EVERY POST Blog, I find myself wishing I was that popular.
Which takes me back to high school. And Cute Football Player. (The word "dumb-ass keeps coming to mind. Why is that?)
Anyway, I guess my point is that I have to relearn to like me, in the bloggy sense. I am not the Captain of the Cheerleading Squad when it comes to blogging and popularity. I do not have cute tag words I have made up that make everything sounds cute, cool, and fresh; and like high school, I am not going to find my comment section full of "ooohhh"s and "ahhhs" from adoring fans.
So what?
What I am is a freelance-writing mom who works from home while trying to balance taking care of a velcro baby of an almost-one-year-old. It isn't always funny, and it isn't always pretty.
But it sure as hell is always real. And that's good enough for me.