It's no surprise to me that Taylor Swift didn't write a song about being thirteen. I mean, thirteen is no where as glamorous as fifteen or twenty two. It's super awkward and when you look back on it, rather embarrassing. And I'll tell you what... thirteen is way worse with boys. (no offense gentlemen!)
What you first have to know is that I have four people in my family. My dad, my mom, me!, and one sibling: a younger brother who is officially a teenager tomorrow. I can't believe it. How can my dorky, stick thin, freakishly tall, Pokemon-playing brother already be thirteen?! *mushy voice* My baby brother's growing up!
Anyways, to celebrate his birthday, he invited four of his closest friends over to our house to scream at each other and down three pizzas while playing video games. After they did this for a few hours, they played with Nerf guns at this indoor Nerf battle arena thing. It was a great opportunity to observe the "preteen" boy in its natural habitat. And it is not pretty.
Why?
They sweat. A lot. And their voices squeak. A lot.
And this, folks, is why Taylor didn't sing about being thirteen. Pimples, squeaky voices, and BO will not win you a Grammy.
In fact, the only one who should win an award around here should be me, for not saying anything too rude to the sweaty, shrieking boys who entered our home. However, a few mean-spirited things might have popped out of my mouth.... Ooops.
The only plus side? Birthdays equal cake. But even with the cake, thirteen year old boys scare me to death. Of course, at age thirteen I wasn't that normal either. I think I still had my hair cut really short and it was so flat that it looked like I Modge-podged it to my head. I also believe that's when I thought fuzzy Walmart hoodies and everything that said "AEROPOSTALE" all over it was cool. Thirteen was seventh grade for me, so of course, I thought I was super cool and everyone loved me.
Do you believe me? No? Well, to prove it, I'll post a picture at the end of this post as long as we promise to never revisit age thirteen.
Anyways... I don't know if my readers are male or female, so I hope I didn't offend you too much, but even if I did, comment below with how you acted at age thirteen. And if you have any inkling of kindness in you, you'll also wish my brother a happy, happy birthday and me good luck!
I'll wrap this post up with a quick note to my brother in case he ever reads this blog post....
What you first have to know is that I have four people in my family. My dad, my mom, me!, and one sibling: a younger brother who is officially a teenager tomorrow. I can't believe it. How can my dorky, stick thin, freakishly tall, Pokemon-playing brother already be thirteen?! *mushy voice* My baby brother's growing up!
Anyways, to celebrate his birthday, he invited four of his closest friends over to our house to scream at each other and down three pizzas while playing video games. After they did this for a few hours, they played with Nerf guns at this indoor Nerf battle arena thing. It was a great opportunity to observe the "preteen" boy in its natural habitat. And it is not pretty.
Why?
They sweat. A lot. And their voices squeak. A lot.
And this, folks, is why Taylor didn't sing about being thirteen. Pimples, squeaky voices, and BO will not win you a Grammy.
In fact, the only one who should win an award around here should be me, for not saying anything too rude to the sweaty, shrieking boys who entered our home. However, a few mean-spirited things might have popped out of my mouth.... Ooops.
The only plus side? Birthdays equal cake. But even with the cake, thirteen year old boys scare me to death. Of course, at age thirteen I wasn't that normal either. I think I still had my hair cut really short and it was so flat that it looked like I Modge-podged it to my head. I also believe that's when I thought fuzzy Walmart hoodies and everything that said "AEROPOSTALE" all over it was cool. Thirteen was seventh grade for me, so of course, I thought I was super cool and everyone loved me.
Do you believe me? No? Well, to prove it, I'll post a picture at the end of this post as long as we promise to never revisit age thirteen.
Anyways... I don't know if my readers are male or female, so I hope I didn't offend you too much, but even if I did, comment below with how you acted at age thirteen. And if you have any inkling of kindness in you, you'll also wish my brother a happy, happy birthday and me good luck!
I'll wrap this post up with a quick note to my brother in case he ever reads this blog post....
"Dear Ryan, I wish you the happiest of birthdays today! I know we don't always get along, but you're the best brother I could have asked for, even if you do choose some of the weirdest people on Earth to be friends with. I love you so much and I hope you know that. You're smart, occasionally funny, and stand up for what you believe in. God has great plans for you, and I hope you stay firmly grounded in Him so you can fulfill His purpose for you. Happy 13th birthday.... hope your day and year are as special as you! I love you Ryan!"
-Allison