I feel stupid (and contagious).

I've been playing SongPop on my new phone, and it's pretty obvious by now that I'm terrible at it except when it comes the 90's Alternative category. (Seriously, if you want to win, challenge me at Modern Rap or Today's Hits.) I know nearly every song and can even remember what year of junior high or high school I was listening to it. Now I understand why my parents were always listening to Dan Fogelberg and Ann Murray in the car.

How I wanted to look in 1995.

Speaking of which, Hank and I were driving home the other night and "Smells Like Teen Spirit" came on the radio. That song will always and forever remind me of a very important night in my freshman life that just didn't quite work out...

It was early 1996, maybe March or so, and I had started hanging out with this kid, David, whose personal hero was Kurt Cobain, much like a bunch of boys at that time, I'd guess. There were a group of juniors at our school who decided to form a band, Endless Nameless, and made plans to put on their first concert at a local venue normally reserved for 13-year-old girls' birthday parties. Everyone who listened to that kind of music and fancied themselves "grunge" was planning to be there.

With my ribbed turtlenecks and tapered jeans, I was so far from grunge it was laughable, but I so wanted to fit in with that crowd. (Interesting side note: Kyle, my future husband, was part of the most notorious group of grunge kids in the school.) But being a cheerleader and completely insecure, that wasn't going to happen. Still, I got dressed in what I'm sure was my best flannel shirt and Airwalks and walked over to the Frazee Center from my house with David and my friend Jackie, who had dated one of the guys in Endless Nameless.

How I actually looked in 1995.

When we arrived, the music had already started and kids were still flooding in. I balked. Flat-out refused to go in. I had an internal anxiety attack I had to fight to keep from becoming public. There was no way I was going in there with all those people who knew how to mosh and dyed their hair with Kool-Aid. I was sure I'd be labeled a poser, which was a huge insult to a 15-year-old in 1996.

Mercifully, the sky turned navy blue and a huge storm started to roll in. I convinced David and Jackie that it wouldn't be a good idea to be packed into the tiny building if a tornado were to touch down. The storm ended up being big enough that the show was called off.

I had looked so forward to that show, so I guess even if I had sucked it up and gone in, I would have been disappointed when the weather shut the party down. Still, being that insecure kept me from really being comfortable with how I looked for a long time, and I still struggle with it off and on even today. At that time, I was so afraid of disappointing my friends and my parents, who most likely would have loved me even if I'd decided to start shopping at Goodwill instead of Gap. I don't have many regrets, but not letting myself be myself is a major one. Someone get on that time machine business.