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I’m what you might call, a bit of an awkward person. I’ve never quite seemed to fit into the grain of ‘normality’ is society. You might say weird, I prefer the term ‘quirky’ (although let’s face it, those words mean the same thing). Consequently, this means that I’m always the one with the go to humiliating story, or the one that silences the conversation in the room when I take a joke too far. ‘Awkwardness’ often has the habit of branching out of my personality into my appearance and my laugh which has been described as a ‘contagious cackle’.
My curly hair is awkward, always acting like a hormonal teenager. Some days it will behave and curl in the way that I want it to, but most of the time it tells me to go f*** myself, sticking out like a mane. And then there’s these bad boys…

Photo on 19-06-2015 at 23.04

The epitome of awkward are glued to my teeth. My eighteen year old awkward teeth, that were too awkward to push the baby teeth out by themselves, so they had to be removed. I thought the laugh was bad, pair that with a metal mouth and the manic hair, you have yourself a meth-head who needs to be sectioned. It’s needless to say, that making new friends at university this year was a worrying prospect. Who wants to befriend the awkward drug addict? Somehow I got through it, although I spent my freshers year doing that awkward close-lipped smile, that never really looks sincere.

Wow. This was meant to be a post to other awkward older people with braces, to tell them that being an awkward metal mouth isn’t so bad. I’m sorry, I’ve probably just scared you to death. Don’t rip the metal off so quickly! You’ll be thankful when your teeth are straight in the long run. You’ll also have a lot of room for bags on the bus! After all, who would want to sit next to anyone as awkward as us?
(Drinking game: Shot for every time I wrote awkward)

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