The winter season is always embraced with smiles because children know that the holidays are coming and so are new toys and clothes. I used to find myself counting down the days until the jolly old man would slip through the chimney and give me what I really wanted, a new jacket. Every year, I received a different color jacket with two small pockets and a hood. I cherished this gift because it would become a vital part of my weekly wardrobe for the next 364 days.

By the beginning of eighth grade, my closet drowned in jackets. Each morning I would throw on any size shirt and cover up the mess with a jacket. As I would brush my teeth, I would glare at the giant puff ball staring back at me in the mirror and then zip up my jacket. At school, the classroom heater enjoyed overworking itself, and all my classmates would strip off their layers of clothes. I, on the other hand, roasted like a Thanksgiving turkey underneath my jacket all day. When my friends encouraged me to take off my jacket, I simply lied and said I felt fine. My friends, with their long, skinny faces, smiled back at me and said whatever. Then they strut away in their trendy skinny jeans. At home was no different than in school. My jacket was glued onto me until another from my collection would replace it the next day. My sisters teased me about my “jacket addiction,” but I was distracted by their cute outfit for the day that emphasized their stick thin waists. I retreated to my room where I sat alone in front of the mirror contemplating the fact that many people, including those closest to me, were confident super models while I was a loser among them. I struggled to focus on anything but my self-image.

The warm, coziness of the holiday season disappeared as the sun became more noticable during the spring time. I always woke to the chirping of the birds hopping around on the green grass. Whenever I heard the birds' joyous cries, I would panic a little inside because it marked the time where wearing a jacket would soon become socially unacceptable. For years I had just dealt with the embarrassment, but it all changed after I met one of my best friends, Taylor.

On my first day of marching band camp, I suffered underneath the blazing sun alone in a group of people at least one year older than me. Too intimidated to say a word to anyone, I bit into my sandwich that afternoon a couple feet away from my sister and her friends. Surprisingly I was joined a couple minutes later by a tall, brown-haired girl, Taylor, who politely asked to sit with me. I remembered her from practice earlier as the girl with the really loud laugh in a large group of people. As our lunches slowly shrank, we shared a conversation about the only thing we knew we had in common at the time, our previous middle school teachers. As we ended our conversation, she invited me to walk to the bathroom with her. I, of course, accepted the invite because someone popular was asking me to do something. Our first bathroom adventure together lead to daily ones during camp and created the tradition of “bathroom field trips” for every band camp to follow.

On one of our trips to the bathroom, we stood in front of the mirror fixing our hair. Taylor then told me to take my jacket off because the sun was unbearable, and she did not want me to collapse out on the practice field. At first I was hesitant and attempted to come up with an excuse, but as I realized I just sounded absurd, I slowly tore the jacket from body. I fumbled around with my jacket in an attempt to hold it up and cover as much of my body without actually wearing the jacket. As I was in my own panicked world, Taylor interrupted by complimenting my tank top. The popular and most fashionable person I ever met was complimenting my clothes. After we left the bathroom, not only was my jacket immediately shoved into my backpack, I never wore another jacket until the first day of winter.

Whenever Spring hops in, I shamelessly pack up my jackets and remember Spring is a time of change. Jackets are no longer the focus of my wardrobe. I spend less time glaring at myself in the mirror and more time appreciating what is in the reflection. I no longer hide behind my long-sleeves, and I embrace the new breeze against my skin while wearing short-sleeves.