I started out with one idea, but then I changed my mind. I’d almost forgotten about this.
I’d be lying if I said I was popular. I’m not sure who actually is in middle school. It’s certainly a select type of person. I certainly did not belong to that mold.
I was awkward, chubby, unaware that I should certain things like wear a bra, and I had more self confidence than I had any right to. The last part was my true failing. Let’s face it not many people at the age of twelve or thirteen can say they like themselves.
I really liked myself so much that it drove other people crazy. Kids who lack self confidence want to quash any self esteem they see. The mere existence of it drives them crazy.
You have probably figured out by now that I was teased mercilessly. There are plenty of stories I could tell, but one in particular has always confused me. To this day I still don’t really understand what happened.
There was a very popular, pretty girl named Sara. She was the only Asian at our school, I grew up in a hick town, and I thought she was so pretty. I was that Japan loving anime watching nerd and still am. I wanted so badly to be a pretty Asian. Unfortunately, I was tall, blond, and blue eyed. I know you can feel sorry for me later.
She was never particularly nice to me. In fact in many ways she liked to point out the ways that I failed at being a girl. When I started growing leg hair, she noticed. When I started to actually need a bra, she noticed. She also noticed that I had no clue about makeup and sought to remedy this short coming on at least one occasion.
I wanted to be friends with her because that’s what you do when someone torments you in middle school. You automatically want them to like you because obviously they don’t. Eventually I got over this and even got a bit angry.
My anger came to a head at a school dance. I had found, or rather I should say my mother had found, an awesome maroon dress complete with shawl to wear to the dance. At that point in time, seventh grade I think, I hadn’t had much cause to think of myself as pretty. That night I did, and I decided that I was going to show Sara up but good.
All of us girls were gathered in the bathroom to check our faces again for the hundredth time. Sara was to far away to talk to, so I followed her across the hall into the gym where the pictures were being taken.
I strutted right up to her, and before I had a chance to say anything she complimented me. I was baffled. I stood there in confusion.
I don’t remember what I said, but the next thing that happened was that she burst into tears. She stormed off and ran into the bathroom. It was the most bizarre thing. Now, knowing myself at the time, I was capable of saying something revenge like, but I don’t think that was the case. I remember saying something like well look at me don’t I dress up nice or something inane. Perhaps I just didn’t realize I was being cutting. Well as you can imagine her friends gave me the stink eye and stormed off too to do damage control.
A sense of shame and guilt washed over me. I, the constant victim, had made someone cry. I felt awful. I think I went in and tried to apologize, but none of it made sense. I didn’t know at the time, and still don’t, what I said to make her cry in the first place. I wish I knew. I wish I remembered. Sometimes life is funny like that. Maybe if I saw her and asked she would remember. Maybe I was some horrible bully that night and didn’t realize it. I hope not.
WEWrites 