Tag: class flirt

I was listening to something on the radio a few weeks ago. Likely just two DJs on the radio, but they were talking about the least impressive award they ever received. It was humorous, but I guess you had to be there!

It made me go back in time of course, to two awards I received 4 years apart, that to me were not what I wanted. They both made me feel shame because, although one was done in jest, I didn’t think that way about myself! Bear with me, I’m going into the Way Way Back machine.

Eight grade awards ceremony. Yup, 8th grade. I received an award called, “My Affair Lady” . Did I say this was a catholic school? Two classes for each grade at the time. So yeah, I had a couple of boyfriends that year. There were some tumultuous moments during the year. But did “the committee” really have to put it out there? I think what made it worse was, it was my twin sister and her friend who created the awards. I can still picture the friend really laughing it up. I’m sure I gave a smile and laughed but I felt the jab.

Senior year of high school. Class Superlatives. You know the ones? Best Smile, Cutest, Most Class Spirit. Me? Class Flirt. Wah-wah-wahhhhh. Pattern anyone? The superlatives are voted on by the class but once they reach the yearbook committee, all bets are off. If someone was top two in a category and they were on the committee, they picked which one they wanted, and give second place the other. I don’t sound bitter after 48 years do I? Anyway, yeah, Class Flirt. I guess I didn’t stray far from “My Affair Lady” did I? The male Flirt was someone I knew well, and he IS a shameful flirt. I was not like that, I thought to myself. I’m friendly, I talk to people (only boys evidently). But votes don’t lie right? We had our picture taken and it’s there for all eternity.

Why do I even care? Because I know that events like this affected my identity and self-worth as years went on. I might not have changed my pattern, obviously that was already ingrained, but it colored how I saw myself and what I thought about myself. Past events are going to be carried with you whether you say, “Oh that didn’t bother me at all” or not.