I remember the first time I became super aware of the way I looked. It was my first middle school dance, and, as an eighth grader, this was a pretty big deal. I had waited my entire middle school career to be allowed to attend a school dance (my parents had rules). A DJ (playin’ “Ghetto Superstar and The Boy is Mine”), tons of snacks and sodas, a pretty dress, my best friends on the dance floor—this was the stuff my 8th grade dreams were made of! And you guys, I was having the best time.

That is, until the lights dimmed and music slowed, and Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss A Thing” began playing. Suddenly, everyone was pairing off to sway to the music in that awkward, middle-school-slow-dance kind of way. Everyone, that is, except me.