Sweet Spirit

I took a quiz on Facebook, (I know many are really lame, and this one was no exception) but the result was funny and reminded me of a little story.

The quiz was: "Are You Beautiful, Sexy, Gorgeous, Pretty, Average, or Ugly" quiz
Here are my results:
You are the average Joe, still pretty, but you are beautiful on the inside and that's what really counts!

Despite this being based on my favorite movie and what my ideal date would be, it is quite accurate I think.

Growing up I was definitely the sweet spirit. What is a "sweet spirit" you ask? Well, it's Mormon vernacular for girl that isn't attractive, but is just kind of lame and nice, and no one wants to date her, and you know why, but you don't want to be mean and say exactly why, so instead you say..."Oh Jessica Kelly. She's a nice girl---boys don't like her much. OOoohh...but she makes really good cookies and has a sweet spirit."

Get the idea?

If not, this clip from Sons of Provo may help explain the sweet spirit for you.


I was totally a sweet spirit, but probably not so nice. A "sweet spirit" that is rotten inside too maybe. My close guy friends nicknamed me "Mother Kelly". So at 17 when I was supposed to be at the peak of my sexy hottness, I was deemed the matron of our teenage group. Nice. Sidenote: I took another Facebook quiz of which Office character I am and I am Phyllis. A theme is being laced through my life I'm starting to notice.

So back to high school being a sweet spirit. Moms loved me. Moms love sweet spirits and try to hook their teenage sons up with sweet spirits because I think moms know we, as sweet spirits are safe. High moral standards, but in reality--their sons would never be interested in anything other than an obligatory half-hug goodnight. Unfortunately teenage boys don't often listen to their grandma's or their mom's dating advice, because dang, if boys had, I could have been busy every Friday night. Maybe not actually.

I thought you might enjoy some high school dance photos since you've made it this far. This is Homecoming my Jr. year. John Guymon asked me--nice of him. He was a really funny friend. I just laughed at the positioning the knight between us. Aren't high school dance photos so awkward?? Maybe I'll host a contest to award the most awkward photo. Anyway...

So here's the memory that popped in my head.

The end of my Junior year of high school, we had to finish up with a big project in AP US History. That was an intense class and exam, and we were all burned out, so me and two friends decided to make a crappy little film in one afternoon and be done. No research, no writing. We have a cement room in our basement my mom designed as a cold cellar. But we refer to this room as the "Bomb Shelter". Our lame little movie was all about the Cold War paranoia and how people stocked and created bomb shelters in the 50s. So we all dressed up to be high school Gidget girls from the 50s. I remember I wore my mom's cat-eye blue glasses from when she was in 3rd grade, a little sweater, skirt, scarf around my neck, folded socks. What is sad is I still have both the skirt and the sweater, and I wore the sweater like 2 days ago.
Anyway, back to 2002. For our film, I slicked my hair back in a high ponytail and put on all this bright colored makeup. Like hot pink blush and lipstick. Later that night after the filming, my Dad asked what was with the new look, and I explained it had been for our project. He told me I looked really good, and if I'd look like that all the time, I might get a date. I told him I didn't think this would do anything to change the fact that males had zero interest in me. We talked about it in length, and it ended up being a bet. A wager.

The stakes: $20.00 (try to say 20 dollars in your head like the paperboy in Better Off Dead says Two Dollars, it'll make this story funny if it's lame to read)
The condition: I was to wear my slicked back ponytail and clown makeup to school, and if by the end of the day I didn't have a date, my dad would have to pay up. If by some miracle, the slicky-clown-look paid off and I was asked on a date, I would have to fork over $20 pain-stakingly earned from working at the Chicken Shack.

Being a teenager, always eager to earn an easy buck, I was all over this. I dated so rarely, and only was asked out by buddies needing to make an even number in a dance group, or a guy from church who's mom held him to it because she talked to my mom and my mom told his mom how pathetic I was, or the boy who's parents don't want him to be in a serious relationship and deem he needs to date someone else between dates with his girlfriend, etc. Pity dates. Those are the only dates I went on. So they were rare and far between. So I pretty much knew I had this in the bag, and wearing slicked ballet hair with stage makeup to high school didn't bother me. I didn't expect any secret admirers to all the sudden change their mind or anything.

So the next day, I got all clowned up. My first class was actually AP US History. I remember class was pretty casual, because students were just mingling at our desks, which were actually tables. My teacher, Mr. Birrell came up and said: "So....Jessica. I've noticed you've changed your look today." He had been folding his arms, and one hand was up at his mouth, kind of trying to hide his little smile. "Oh ya. My dad is trying to help me get a date, and this is what he thinks will work. I'll win 20 bucks by the end of school when no one has asked me out." Mr. Birrell kind of nodded and said: "Well, good luck in not getting a date today," and walked off.

It was at that point when I realized maybe, just maybe, my dating history wasn't purely from the structure of my face, but behaviorally self inflicted.

In any case, I did end up saying "I do"...and it was so nice for me like the Sons of Provo promised... and I'm pretty sure my dad still owes me 20 bucks.