When I was in 8th grade, I ran for Vice President of Student Council.

I campaigned like a madwoman.  I hung hand-painted signs on lockers. I decorated hallways. I taped balloons to bathroom mirrors.  I teased my hair EXTRA high and ALWAYS coordinated my hair scrunchies to match my three layers of socks.

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While my rivals were promising Coca-Cola in drinking fountains and longer lunch periods, my speech was littered with promises of fair and equal treatment in disciplinary practices, better selections of extracurricular activities, and cleaner desks.

Yes, I dorked it up like CRAZY.

My palms were sweaty as afternoon announcements approached.  I could hardly breathe as they began, my best friends crowded around me as our braces-clad teeth chewed what was left of our nails.

"...and for Vice President, Brett Cappa...."

I almost died.  Right there, in the middle of Mr. Miller's homeroom, I almost collapsed.  The worst part?  Brett was sitting across the aisle from me, and our mutual besties all jumped up and down with him in congratulatory celebration.

I hung my head, electric-blue mascara streaming down my cheeks, and extended a handshake to Brett, mumbling, "Nice job."

I came home, threw myself on my bed, and wept until the sun went down. I was filled with anxiety of showing my defeated face the next day at school. Everyone was going to make fun of me and my FAILED efforts at winning!  Remember, when you're 12 years old, any small disappointment is more dramatic than the final scenes of Titanic.

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Ya know what happened the next day?  Brett congratulated me on my efforts, and we all went on with our lives.

Coca-Cola never did make it to the drinking fountains.

Did you vote today? :)