Spring Orzo with Shrimp and Asparagus

Before we proceed with the post today I need you to do me a favor, friends. I need you to promise me that you’ll still like me after you read it.  

Promise? Pinky swear?

Good.

Because today, friends, I’m going to introduce you to my sixth grade self and my darkest moment of middle school shame.   

Let’s just say that sixth grade Meaghan was a hot mess, wanting so badly to be cool, to fit in with the in crowd. But, sadly, I was just about everything a popular girl can’t be–tall, pimply, unathletic, uncoordinated, awkward, unfashionable, and probably worst of all–chubby. Yes, early puberty hit me like a mac truck making the years between sixth and ninth grade–when everyone caught up and then surpassed me in height and weight–nearly unbearable. I stuck out like a sore thumb with just too many red checkmarks in the “not good enough” column. 

And those cool girls, those skinny, lithe little wonders, they knew it. No matter how much I wanted them to like me, no matter how many times I gave (not traded) them my snack pack in the middle school equivalent of a popularity bribe, they didn’t quite accept me into their fold. And because middle school girls can sense blood in the water and sniff out insecurity like a bloodhound, they knew my weak point, my Achillies Heel.

And they went for it, one day making a club aptly named “Meaghan McCann is fat.”

In case you were wondering, I was not allowed to join.

And, friends, I was so crushed. I felt the tiny little grip I had on my sense of self slipping away. I already knew I was different, all it took was one look in the mirror for me to see it, but those girls, they honed in on my deepest insecurity and they didn’t just mock me for it–they made a freaking club about it. 

And my response, well it wasn’t to take the high road, for sure. Yes, instead of rising above and finding true friends, as I would today counsel my daughter to do, instead of doing the right thing, I did the exact opposite. I tried to be “cool” like my taunters. I tried to ostracize the already ostracized who were below even me on the rung of social misfits and outcasts. I tried to hide away my vulnerability by picking on those that were even more exposed than I was. It was the worst possible way for me to tackle my feelings, but it’s what I did and I have to own it.

Oh man, it makes my heart hurt to remember this.

I honed in on one particular girl, to this day I have no idea why, and decided that she would be my target. I have no idea what I was trying to prove.  But one day on the playground, in one desperate act of ridiculous sixth-grade desperation, I pant-sed her in front of the entire group of cool girls. 

Y’all, I can’t even stop crying when I write this.

The entire scene is etched into my mind like a slow-motion horror movie. I have a terrible memory (seriously, it’s the stuff of legends), but I can remember where we were on the playground, what we were doing. Hell, I can even remember what her underwear looked like. 

Oddly enough, I don’t remember her reaction. Did she cry? I would have. Was she humiliated? Mad? I have no idea. I can’t imagine. There is nothing that haunts me more about my childhood than this one moment and the pain it must have caused her. 

I hope this poor girl has forgotten, I hope she is so evolved past feeling middle school shame that this doesn’t even register on her radar as important.  BUT, even if she has no recollection of the event at all, if I could see her now I would still give her the biggest of big hugs and get down on my hands and knees and beg for forgiveness. 

And I wouldn’t even expect her to give it. 

What I can imagine, though, because I felt it, was the immediate feeling of intense and burning shame. I felt, for the first time ever, how close to the surface my ugly really is. How tangible and near the “worst” of my “worst self” really was. I acted completely outside of my established personal norms and it haunts me to this day.

But you know what? Do you know who else I want to give a big hug to?

Sixth grade me. 

Because, yes, what I did was awful and a huge jerkface move, but now thanks to the gift of 20/20 hindsight, I get it. I totally get the feelings that sparked that complete and utter moment of desperation. Even now as an adult, my darkest moments, they’ve all been spurred by that same feeling. They were all born from a place of deep, dark rejection. Moments where someone I desperately wanted to love me, I desperately wanted to say “Hey, you’re alright just as you are,” made a club, and didn’t invite me in. 

I’ve been that sad, heavy sixth-grade girl more often than I ever care to admit.

I don’t even know why I’m sharing this today, especially because I’m pretty sure it’s going to make you hate me. But it’s just been sitting here, pressing on my heart lately. Probably because I really think that the worst of us, the worst things that we’ve done or said, almost always come from this place of sadness. There’s no excuse for the action, and there are always consequences (like carrying the weight of memory around for 29 years) but there is usually a source of the pain. 

And now, now at least I know where I went wrong. I’ve repeated the same mistake more than once in my life (no, not pantsing people, though honestly a few probably deserved it). I’ve acted out in repressed anger and frustration because I felt like I didn’t belong, that no one would accept me or love me or let me into their club. I’ve been lost and reacted in kind.

But thank God I’ve been found. Thank God that I know now that what I was searching for on the playground and in life, it can’t be found here. It just can’t. Anything here, from friends to spouses to children to things, they are all wonderful, but they’re not where we get our value.  Our value is held in the hands of a man who lived perfectly and died the death we deserved, all for us when we’re at our worst, not just our best, but our worst. 

So when you’re feeling like you don’t matter. When there’s a club out there you can’t join no matter how hard you try, remember that you are held as more valuable than you ever imagined by the one who created you. 

And that is worth more than some stupid sixth-grade club any day.

Wow. That was a deep one.

And now for something easy and light, because heaven knows I need it after that…

Spring Orzo with Shrimp and Asparagus

This recipe for Spring Orzo with Shrimp and Asparagus is as light and springy as they come. Asparagus is having a moment in our house, it’s the vegetable that always signals at the start of the season for me so I like to use it up as much as I can in these early months when the shoots are still thin and tender. Pairing it with lemon and shrimp is a no-brainer, they compliment each other well. My favorite part, though, is the Orzo. Though I love it, I’m way too scatter-brained to tackle risotto, all the stirring and adding and stirring some more. Who has time for that? But this Orzo takes on a risotto-like texture when cooked this way. It’s a great fake-out that leaves you feeling like you just cheated the kitchen gods completely.

To peace, love and keeping your pants on,

Meg 

Spring Orzo with Asparagus and Shrimp

November 4, 2019

Difficulty: Easy

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By: Meaghan Dawson

Ingredients

• 4 cups (one quart) chicken stock
• 8 ounces orzo pasta
• zest and juice of one lemon
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• pinch of red pepper
• 1/2 pound asparagus, woody ends trimmed and then cut into 1 inch pieces
• 3/4 pound large shrimp, peeled and deveined

Directions

• Step 1 Bring chicken stock to boil in a medium pot.
• Step 2 Cook orzo in stock to package directions.
• Step 3 Drain in a mesh strainer fitted over a bowl to catch the remaining stock.
• Step 4 Set both pasta and stock aside.
• Step 5 Coat the bottom of a cast iron skillet (or non-stick if you don’t have one) with olive oil. Heat over medium high heat.
• Step 6 Add shrimp in a single layer once the oil shimmers, sprinkling with salt and pepper. DON’T STIR.
• Step 7 Cook 3-4 minutes on one side until crisp, then stir, cooking 1-2 more minutes or until pink.
• Step 8 Set aside.
• Step 9 Add a splash more oil to the pan and cook garlic and red pepper, stirring constantly, 30 seconds or until fragrant.
• Step 10 Add asparagus and lemon zest. Season with salt and pepper.
• Step 11 Cook 3-4 minutes or until asparagus is deep green and softened.
• Step 12 Add lemon juice, shrimp, and pasta back to the pan.
• Step 13 Stir to combine, and lowering the heat to medium low, add in the stock, cooking until reduced about half and the orzo has a risotto-like texture.
• Step 14 Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper if needed.
• Step 15 Serve with fresh grated parmesan cheese if desired.

Want other shrimp ideas, check these out:

Shrimp with Tomatoes and Basil

Spicy Baked Shrimp

Sweet Honey Sriracha Shrimp

Want to hear more of my story, read here:

The Grit and Grace Project: How I Made Beauty from Ashes (and Burnt Toast)

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