For awkward girls, "walk of shame" has a whole different twisted meaning than the general population's. Forget the classic "Snooki look-a-like strutting down the street still donning last night's guidette makeup, wearing hooker heels and a sweatshirt (if she's lucky) that the guy she shacked up with (is that even the proper use of that word?) was kind of enough to loan her." No, no, no my friends--I'm talking a different, but no less shameful, "walk of shame" that awkward girls face EVERYDAY OF THEIR LIVES.
You see, an awkward girl's walk of shame is worse in that she can have SEVERAL throughout her awkward-filled day. An awkward girl's "walk of shame" can range from anything to carrying a Victoria's Secret bag around the mall (like, cool, I bought a bra but everyone probs thinks I bought lacy cheetah print thongs) to the dreaded walk down the dorm floor to the shower in a towel (which is more of a sprint than a walk due to the male specimens inhabiting the other half of the floor) to arriving late to class (because isn't the classroom door ALWAYS at the front of the room and isn't there ALWAYS backpacks in the aisle to trip on?!) to walking back from a night out on the town and getting cat calls from guys on their porches (kill me now). But, there IS one "walk of shame" that is absolutely unavoidable/HORRIFIC, and yes, I AM referring to the long trek to class.
On a scale of accidentally liking someone's profile picture from 3 years ago to Kristen Stewart, this "walk of shame" is off the charts--like accidentally playing footsie with the guy sitting across from you at the library but 1000x WORSE. Why is such a simple everyday task so daunting for us awkward girls? While putting one foot in front of the other sounds simple enough--YOU COULDN'T BE MORE WRONG. For starters, we are severely pigeon toed (because, really, why wouldn't we be?) and if we aren't paying attention we often find ourselves veering off track into a building/tree/Ryan Gosling clone. Throw some ice or snow into the equation and we'd probably be better off to just chop off our feet and drag ourselves to class using our knuckles (seriously).
Then there's the whole eye contact issue. Every human is like a basilisk to us awkward girls (sorry for all the Harry Potter references all the time, but actually, I'm really not) in that we feel we will die (of embarassment/awkwardness) if we look someone straight in the eyes. Therefore, we employ many tactics to avoid this whole dilemma. Earbuds in, iPod on, because we feel this eliminates any obligation to look at anyone, EVER, since DUH we're totally captivated with our music (though we do always make SURE that our iPod isn't so loud that others can hear because, honestly, we're a little ashamed about the fact that S Club Party is on our Top 25 Most Played playlist).
We also find ourselves staring pensievely off into the horizon at distant objects such as trees, birds or buildings (as if we care about nature/architecture/anything but our current Words with Friends game) so as to look deeply engrossed in our complex thoughts. Cute group of guys approaching? We just received a really long, intense "text message" that requires us to keep our eyes glued to our phone screen or possibly our we just became severely OCD about our nail polish and suddenly need to chip it all off until the group passes.
When we do make eye contact (however fleeting the second is) we give a little half-smile that often isn't reciprocated, causing us to shift our eyes to that object in that distant that we were staring at prior to the whole awkward situation. Unfortunately, this just makes us look entirely creepy/mentally unstable as we stare into the distance with that god awful half-smile glued onto our face.
Last, but CERTAINLY not least, we have the whole "what do I do with my arms/hands?" problem. Honestly, we're jealous of Captain Hook. His life must be so easy because, undoubtedly, the most awkward thing about us awkward girls are our lengthy, gangly limbs. If we don't have pockets or a cell phone/ipod to latch onto we literally don't know how to handle ourselves. It takes every awkward fiber of strength within us to fight the urge to go all apeshit and pull a "Britney Spears" and shave off all our hair. Without something to preoccupy our hands with, they swing lifelessly/awkwardly at our sides--making us look like some creepy human orangutan hybrid that just escaped the local zoo (or, if you happen to live in Ohio, the nearest farm).
So, Snooki look-a-likes of the world, we actually feel your pain (minus the whole "we can't walk in heels" thing). We endure walks of shame every time we step out our door. As a matter of fact, I'm about to embark on my own--the dreaded tampons purchase. YIKES!
Peace, Love, and chia pets.
Awkward Girl
PREACH
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