Talk about unrealistic body expectations.
There was no greater feeling than cleaning up its poop.
The perfect Claire’s-bought accessory for the baby prostitute.
What better form of entertainment is there than inking your own body with toxic neon ink?
The number of butterfly clips in your hair at one time was directly proportionate to how cool you were. Fucking duh.
The fugliest sneaker since the Sketcher. Remember the ones with the slip-on back? Even cuter.
Snap an ankle, easiest way to get out of gym class.
The Prada backpack's povo younger sister. It went really well with your Hervé Chapelier pencil case. Hello Kitty can go fuck herself.
Remember when you used to be able to entertain yourself with a piece of fucking string?
A super fun toy, especially when it would go off in the middle of the night and wake up your entire house. Also super fun to hit it with a bat because it won't shut up even after you take the batteries out.
Every young betch had an elite collection of rare beanies: You'd rather swallow nail polish remover than cut the Ty heart off and you made girls who bought fake ones want to drown themselves in Herbal Essences shampoo.
Denim skirts, T-shirts with the logo, and more lace tank tops with that stupid fucking moose than you can count. The extra smalls were maybe suitable for a toddler, but perfect for any pre-teen slut. Also, their ad campaigns were always so kid friendly.
If you never had a competition with one of your friends to see who could eat the most without spitting them out, you probably had a very active circle of imaginary friends.
Middle school was classy as fuck.