Picture round, coke bottle thick lenses. When I smiled, I had a gap and crooked teeth. I was also so thin my rib bones stuck out (kinda wishing that hadn't changed, shrug).
I was a tomboy so I wore patched, bell bottoms. Even though in the 80's the Jordache jeans were in style. Oh, no. It was Sears Surplus for me because I was too hard on my clothes. I climbed trees, caught minnows, ran through the woods like a wild child. I still have PTSD symptoms from those hideous pants.
Kidding. I didn't really care until about 5th grade. Up until then my friends were boys. My best friend was my sister, who rocked the same pants. None of them really cared about my appearance.
Then, I moved to Guam. I was enrolled in the public intermediate school--6th through 8th graders.
Man, were those 8th grade girls huge in comparison. Huge and mean.
I was the shortest girl in my class. I didn't own a Members Only Jacket or parachute pants (I may be mixing up my era's now). I didn't own a Cabbage Patch doll, but I got a generic one from Korea. One of the ginormous eighth graders took a hate on for me. I don't remember why. I only remember how she caught me in the girls locker room and pinched my nipples. All you ladies out there, remember how sensitive you were at that age? She also kept stealing my lunch, so I starved all day.
 |
| Source |
They also put me into karate, Shōrin-ryū, and in college, Tai Kwon Do. I also went from being the shortest girl in my class to the tallest by my eighth grade year.
Needless to say, the bullying stopped. I think it's because I wasn't afraid of the bullies any more. I knew if they messed with me, I'd take them down. Hard. Knowing I would fight if pushed, I found I no longer had to fight. I also learned not to care what random people thought or said about me. It's only the people who you respect whose opinions matter.
The times I've had difficulty holding onto this philosophy have been when someone messed with someone who couldn't protect themselves. That's when I couldn't stay quiet. That's when I got in trouble, and I didn't care if it was in defense of someone else. That's who I am. Who I will always be.
On Monday, I'm bring back Sharing Our Voices (SOV). I met a nice author on Facebook, who wrote about injustice. She's the one who inspired this post. You'll get to meet her and learn about her source of inspiration.
Also, if you would like to participate in SOV by sharing your source of inspiration, please leave a comment.
