When I was in middle and high school, I wanted to be popular, more than anything else in the world. However, my weak social skills rendered that goal pretty much unattainable. With the exception of a brief period in high school when I unwittingly served as their drug courier, the popular kids acted as if I didn't exist. Whatever efforts I made to put myself on their radar usually ended in complete humiliation for me.

In sixth grade, one of the popular girls told me that if I cut my hair short, I'd have a better chance of getting into the popular crowd because short hair was coming into fashion. So I begged and pleaded until my mother let me get my hair cut short--real short, like a boy's. I showed up to school the next day, ready to take my place at the pinnacle of the social order…and all the kids laughed at me. I was the only girl who had short hair. Several months later, the popular girls told all the girls to wear their hair in two pigtails. Well, short hair doesn't grow out that fast, but I did my best and showed up to school with two stubby pigtails. More laughter. In science class that day, a popular girl said she felt sorry for me and wanted to give me advice. She told me to stop trying so hard to be popular, that I shouldn't do what everyone else was doing, but be myself.