Go to Hell, Bullies!

There are a few causes very important to me, one is bullying. Because I was bullied.

Today's bullying is different from when I was younger because of all the technology available.  I was not threatened or physically beaten, but people said mean things and picked on me because I was overweight and sensitive, making for an easy target.  Part of me now worries that using the term "bullied" isn't right in my case, but it feels like it.  If Facebook had been around when I was 12 or 13 I might not have made it to high school.  

Everything made me cry because I was super sensitive.  Looking back I can't help to think I was a huge killjoy.  But who isn't insecure then?  I remember in 6th grade a boy, John, used to call me fat and ugly all the time.  He even told me that other boys talked about me and how gross I was all the time.  In specific detail.  I can still remember hearing him on the phone and just crying.  I quickly drew the attention of my mom, then dad and finally my brother.  They all gathered around me, trying to console me.  I begged them not to make me go to school the next day, my throat was dry and itchy and my head hurt from it all.  But they made me go and I was terrified the whole day that John or other boys were going to give me a hard time.  I don't think I said a word the entire day.  And it wasn't just him, a lot of boys gave me a hard time. 

When I was in 8th grade the same guy had his friends call me and say ugly things.  Since these friends went to a different school I didn't know who they were.  And I can remember one night so vividly that I'd like to be hypnotized into forgetting.  

It was Christmas break and my family had dinner at the original Ninfa's on Navigation.  Shaw was about to turn 16, so we were talking about cars.  I told them I wanted a convertible VW Cabriolet.  After dinner my brother and I rented "Bad Boys" (this was 1995) and watched it downstairs.  We had our own phone line and I thought I heard it ring during the movie but didn't care about answering it.  It was after midnight by the time we finished the movie.  I saw the red light flashing on the answering machine, played it and immediately broke down.  "You're a fat, ugly cow.  No one likes you, guys think you're so gross…" etc.  I can't remember the entire message because my brother came in and demanded to know who had left it.  

He started going through the caller ID and was reading names out loud while I just sat there, heartbroken.  I felt fat, ugly, embarrassed and alone.  I thought, "Who else agrees with him?  Who else knows about this, and why did they let it happen?"  When Shaw found a name of another guy in my class he called the number.  It was a kid named Trevor, and I swear he wet his pants when he heard my brother's voice.  He wanted to know who had left the message and if Trevor knew the severity of what had happened.  Shaw then called the number Trevor gave him, but he never spoke to the person who left the message or John.  I really wanted to die at that point.  Had it not been for Shaw stepping in I don't know what would have happened.  

If an answering machine message can cause such damage to someone, I'd hate to think of the damage texts, Facebook and camera phones can do.  Forgive me, but the people out there who take nudey pictures are asking for it.  That's not even something I would do now at 30.  Overweight girls are photographed in the locker room, boys are filmed kissing other boys and kids who look a little different are threatened and beaten on their school bus.

My mom used to tell me that there was something wrong with them, not me, to be treating me in such a way but I found it so hard to believe.  Are kids being told that same thing?  Because if someone was beating me up I'm not sure those words would go very far.  If kids and teenagers are anything like I was, they are hurt because they know they didn't do anything to provoke it.  They don't understand because they are good kids and just want to be friends.  It can crush your soul.  There was a lot I didn't try out for or participate in because I didn't want any more ammunition, and because I truly felt like a loser that no one liked.  There is no excuse for it--children need to thrive in an inviting atmosphere.  For my pregnant friends I hope to see a better environment for their children.

I wish I could say that I grew into an amazing person, but I'm not sure it's the case.  I was never a bully, but I'm not sure I was as nice as I could be to everybody.  Remembering these things, looking back on that time makes me cry.  It was so hard, I was so miserable and I just wanted to fit in.  I didn't have my first kiss until I was 15, and it wasn't from a boy in my class.

In a twist of fate, I saw this John character years later at a wedding.  He couldn't have been nicer or more interested in my life.  But I could barely look him in the eyes.  After some cocktails I asked him about middle school (I couldn't help myself!), and he said he didn't remember anything.  So I tried being more specific and he still didn't recall any of it.  I wish I could say I looked amazing and had a really hot date, but I didn't, and he's since married and become very successful.  Which reminds me: Dammit, when is my friggin' ship coming in?!?!?!