Confessions of a former mean girl.
I vividly remember looking at teen magazines when I was 12, getting on my knees each night and praying for God to do me a large one and wash away my freckles. I wished for straight long blonde hair, a peaches and cream complexion and an older boyfriend (preferably named, 'Zack'). Admit it, you loved "Saved by the Bell" too. Middle school was no walk in the park for a scrawny, freckled, curly-haired gal and my fondness for cowboy boots didn't help matters. Each day, when I was released from my torture chamber public school, I retreated to my driveway and bounced on a pogo ball for awhile. I jumped rope with one of those ankle thingys with a strawberry counter on the end of it. Remember? I told my mom about the 'mean kids' and found comfort with her. Granted, it's been a couple of decades since I persevered through the social landmines of a typical public school but I'm sure it's getting worse! When my school day ended and I shlepped off tha...