Normal

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I, Jennifer Rose Clark, am a normal 13-year-old. My family is middle class. I have loving parents who get on my nerves sometimes. I have a little sister who gets on my nerves a lot. I have a Yorkie named Shadow. I get A’s and B’s in school. I do Track and Field in the spring. I’m in chamber choir. In the summer I take tennis lessons. I love to read. I play piano. I shop mostly at Aeropostale. I have braces. I’m right-handed. I have a common first name. I have dull, brown hair and brown eyes. I’m average height and average weight. Everything about me is just normal, normal, normal, and it’s getting boring.

Sometimes, I don’t want to be average. I wish there was something about me that was special. I often find myself wishing I had a strange name or was born in another country or spoke English, French, and German or owned 25 pets or was an exceptionally amazing singer. Even being left-handed would be exciting. I’m just average at everything. Average at singing, average at writing, average at sports, average at math. Being normal is boring.

I want an outstanding physical feature, like big, gorgeous eyes or thick, luscious hair. Everything about my look is just Plain Jane. I’m not beautiful, I’m not ugly. A boring appearance is something to yawn at.

If you have some outstanding quality or have done something awesome, that intrigues people. They want to know more about you. Chances are someone would rather speak with a person who says, “Hello. I’m Jennifer and I was born in New Zealand” than somebody who says, “Hello, I’m Jennifer. I’m average height, an average student, and I have brown hair”. I’ve never done anything cool to talk about. I’ve never won the school spelling bee. I’ve never been outside the country. I’ve never broken my leg in a skiing accident. I’ve never saved a baby from a burning building. Well, that’s a little extreme, but you catch my drift.

One of my biggest worries is that people will find me boring. I mean, who wouldn’t find me boring? I’m just a normal teenager. My parents tell me that of course I’m not boring, but parents lie a lot when it comes to their children’s insecurities. So I truly believe that I’m normal, just an average Joe Schmo. But someday I won’t be normal, because as trends come and go, the definition of “normal” changes. I guess I’ll just have to stay the same forever, and at some point I’ll be unique.





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