As I stand on the brink of my daughters’ transition into their pre-teen years—my trio of stair-step girls aged 6, 8, and 10—the pressure to fit in looms larger each day. I find myself hesitant, wanting to shield them from the painful experiences I endured growing up, while recognizing that they will undoubtedly face their own unique challenges. Yet, I can’t help but ponder whether there are a few insights from my own youth that might serve as valuable tools for navigating the rocky road ahead.
One memory, in particular, stands out. During my childhood, our family wasn’t destitute, but we certainly weren’t affluent either. This meant I hovered in the middle of the social spectrum at school: I avoided the harshest bullying but didn’t quite blend in with the wealthier kids. Thankfully, my parents didn’t place much emphasis on material possessions or status. They were laid-back, fun-loving individuals who embraced a more carefree lifestyle. My awareness of our financial situation didn’t fully crystallize until the infamous triangle logo became a status symbol.
In the early 80s, all my classmates flaunted their peg-legged Guess jeans, Izod shirts, and Members Only jackets—items that, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have felt compelled to chase. On a rare shopping trip with my mom, I stumbled upon a pair of size 27 denim jeans adorned with that coveted triangle. They were marked down from $75 to $38, and my heart raced with excitement.
“Mom, look what I found!” I exclaimed as I held them up. “They’re Guess jeans! Can I please have them? I promise I won’t ask for anything else; I just really want them. Every girl at school is wearing them.” Even as the words left my mouth, I felt like a character in a cheesy after-school special.
My mom approached with a mix of tenderness and hesitation, her arms awkwardly clinging to new clothes with tags still attached. I felt shame wash over me as I longed for those jeans. After a moment of contemplation, she said, “Let me think about it.” I was grateful for even that glimmer of hope. Moments later, she returned, walked straight to the cash register, and told me to go get the jeans.
With my heart racing, I dashed to the rack, feeling a surge of optimism. The cashier smiled and noted my choice, and I envisioned a new social standing at school with those jeans in my closet.
However, when I wore them to school, I quickly realized they were not the trendy peg-legs I had envisioned. I attempted to roll them up, but they still felt bulky and awkward. As I entered the schoolyard, I overheard snickers from some girls behind me: “Looks like she has inner tubes around her ankles.” “Are those boy pants?” “I didn’t know Guess made ugly jeans!”
It was painfully clear that I was the target of their ridicule. I knew I had let my mom down, as she had believed those jeans would help me fit in. Despite the teasing, I continued to wear them, letting my shirts drape over the triangle logo, claiming them as my own. I never revealed to my mom how much I had been mocked for them.
In the years since, I’ve learned a valuable lesson: No piece of clothing or brand will ever guarantee acceptance. Sure, I’ve coveted designer items like Louboutins or Gucci handbags, but the reality is, those styles simply aren’t me. Designer jeans? Maybe, but finding a pair that fits my body type seems nearly impossible.
Looking at my three daughters, I hope to empower them to embrace their individuality, whether that means never piercing their ears, rejecting jeans altogether, or favoring cozy hoodies. Each of us deserves to celebrate our preferences without relegating ourselves to the clearance rack of someone else’s world, which will never lead to true fulfillment.
And just so you know, I’m a big fan of being rickrolled. #notsorry
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Summary:
This article reflects on the lessons learned from growing up in the 80s, particularly the realization that material possessions don’t define acceptance or self-worth. It emphasizes the importance of individuality and encourages embracing personal preferences over societal pressures.