addendum

How could I forget the awkward-orgy known as passing the peace?
Every time the pastor says those fated words, I have a 2-second panic attack. Sometimes some good samaritan will come to my rescue-- I turn around, scanning in desperation, she meets my gaze with a Christian smile that says, "It'll be okay. I will shake that socially inept hand of yours," and we complete the act with little psychological damage.

But on some days, when maybe my hair is not combed quite right or my smile is not radiant enough, I can't get any peace. I look to my right, the nice young man is shaking hands with the couple in front of him. I look to my left, my best friend is the life of the pew party. I turn around and see only the backs of heads. Even the old people who can hardly see whose hands they're shaking are cooler than I am. I am an island in the middle of peace and rejection. Sometimes I don't shake a single hand.

Don't let this happen to you on Sunday, friends.