When I was young, all the politicians looked like ancient Latin teachers or greengrocers. They were mumbly, stumbly men with their hair blowing in their eyes, walking into trees, opening the wrong door. They had no idea how to present themselves.
Everyone says I was real cute as a kid, but from 8 to 19, I was horrible-looking, freaky.
And there I was, 225 pounds, perpetually lost and confused, short legs, ape-like upper body, all chest, no neck, head too large, blurred eyes, hair uncombed, 6 feet of geek, waiting for her.
I spent my childhood clad in 1970s hand-me-downs, primarily from male cousins, which mainly consisted of a selection of beige, brown and orange dungarees. That, combined with a perfectly round pudding-bowl haircut, made me look, on a good day, like a cross between Ann Widdecombe, one of the Flower Pot Men, and a monk.
I had one date in high school - that was it, and he didn't ask me out again, because I was taller than everybody. I was very gangly and awkward, and I wore weird clothes that I made.
It's weird, but Scion is kind of cool. I couldn't drive one because I'd look like one of those McDonald's Happy Meal toys with giant heads sticking out the window.
At twelve I looked like a girl of seventeen. My body was developed and shapely. I still wore the blue dress and the blouse the orphanage provided. They made me look like an overgrown lummox.
You know when you see those guys and their sideburns are just a little too high? You don't need to have sideburns, but don't have to have them right above the ear. I knew a guy that did that in high school and I was like, 'What are you doing? Just let them down a little.'
I was so tall and so skinny - I was that kid who couldn't find anything to wear. All the cool kids would have jeans the right length and I would just think, 'What am I going to do?'
My torso is short, but my arms are really long and gangly and my legs and my neck, and my feet and hands are really long, and I look like a duck.
