In elementary school, I was always picked last for dodgeball. If you know me, this is a completely unsurprising fact. I was the girl who got the spelling bee trophy and the medal for reading the most books in one year—I was not known for my athletic prowess.
I was the person that you had to pick, the one people groaned about. It made me feel like shit too—so I’d lurk in the back of the action, chipping away at nail polish or daydreaming about my bowl-cut crush lobbing balls as hard as he could from the other team. I avoided getting hit, mostly because I disappeared into the gym walls, until I was the last one standing.Read more