I have never felt good about my physical self. I am better now than when I was a kid, so there’s that. I’ll take it and be grateful.
Anyway, my relationship with my dad had been bad for years, but by the 8th grade, it began hitting it’s toxic stride. He was cruel in many ways. One of them was to belittle the way I looked. He didn’t like the way I looked.
So I didn’t like the way I looked.
I did like a boy, though. His name was Billy. Billy wasn’t the most popular boy in school, but he had a decent standing. I did not.
When the school year started, we were in the gym being divided into groups for something. Probably dodge ball or something else equally as tortuous. I was tiny. I could have passed for a 4th grader.
I don’t remember the gym teachers name, so we will call her Edna Twatmonster. Edna Twatmonster walked along the bleachers and divided us into two groups with equal numbers of boys and girls. Billy was sitting beside me and when Edna Twatmoster got to me she said “Are you a boy or a girl?”
The question was horrible on it’s own, but she didn’t ask it nicely. She asked the question with the same tone one would make an accusation.
Billy fell on the floor laughing.
I was embarrassed and answered with much sarcasm that I was a boy. Then, I got in trouble for being disrespectful.
Fun times.
I remember what I wore that day. It was the seventies and we were fond of browns, golds, and oranges. My shirt was stretchy material with brown, yellow, and orange stripes. The neckline was attached in the front with a brown wooden bead. Also, rust colored slacks and earth shoes. 
Perhaps not the most attractive outfit, but paired with makeup and big hoop earrings, I don’t see how I could have been mistaken for a boy.
I have never forgotten the shame and embarrassment I felt when Billy laughed at me. I never forgot the hopelessness I felt to have my fears confirmed.
As I remembered this, I wondered how many times I’ve said something unkind to one of my kids, a friend, or a stranger and that has stuck with them.
How many times was I depressed or angry or frustrated or tired and said something unkind or cruel?
I feel bad about that. If I can make amends, I will.
Perhaps, I can even consider Edna Twatmonster. Maybe, she was having a bad day. Maybe, I looked like someone she didn’t like. Maybe, she was a horrible person. Who knows? If I forgive her, then maybe I can recognize that her words have been ash for years. Her words were unkind and I didn’t deserve to be treated that way.
All these decades later, it is up to me to decide whether Edna’s words still carry weight.
I don’t think they do.
I’ve carried Edna’s words around long enough. I think I will leave them here.
I will also continue to hope that people I have hurt in the past can leave my words behind them.
And I will remember to remember than my words carry weight and to be careful where I throw them. Because they can leave a nasty bruise.
If you have any old words that still hurt, then please leave them here with mine. They can keep each other company and leave us the fuck alone.
Which kind of sounds like I’m asking you to tell me your sad stories. I’m really not. I mean, you can if you want. I more meant you could figuratively leave the weight of unkind words here.
My ears would stick out – so yes I got called Big Ears or Dumbo. My Dad in particular delighted in pointing out this silly defect as if it was my fault. But now I realise he probably didn’t even know what he was doing. Seriously, almost every time he opens his mouth there is a bitter put down or slight. It is just his nature – and it is quite a tragedy he is still like this.
Sigh..that sucks. I am so sorry that happened to you. 🙁
I was just talking to my brother about a sadistic teacher we had in sixth grade. When our father finally went to the school to threaten to sue them if the sadist beat my brother one more time, he just turned to emotional abuse. My brother had a noose around his neck at one point, that’s how badly that asshole’s words hurt him.
FUCK that guy. That makes me so mad. Such an abuse. I hope your brother is better now.
My brother and I have been close ever since then. Maybe it brought us together, to have a common enemy. I think he managed to get over it.
I am so glad to hear that!
I guess I went with literally.
Literally works. 🙂
I was at our local beach. 5th grade. a boy I liked called me “Grand Puba” I was a chunky girl. forgave but never forgot. at 57 am just beginning to accept my body. 57. how freakin sad is that? I thought I was HUGE in high school. I look back at photos…I was probably a size 6. wtf. now am a 14, and most days am ok.
words matter.
Words matter a lot! I feel you. It’s taken a long time for me to get where I am in regard to body image. I don’t think it’s sad, I’m just happy that you got there. So many people never do. Rock on with your bad self!!
*dumps 1000 pounds of mean thoughts and belittling comments*
Those were said by me.
*unloads 50,000 pounds of cutting remarks and soul killing statements from Daddy and fake-husband and sons*
*floats away*
YAY! I hope you float all day! All week, even!
Outta the way! Outta the way!!! I’m lugging a shit load of cruel, nasty, hurtful remarks laid upon me by family and teachers and dumping them into the pile, too! Now, I will haul up the cruel, nasty, hurtful remarks I may have shot back in reaction to theirs! (I tend not to attack first, unprovoked. I use my ammo for return fire.) Sorry, but there is one particularly hurtful episode in 6th grade at the hands of a sadistic asshole of a teacher that I cannot leave dumped and forgotten. For that situation, I must give him a good, hard knee to the fucking balls in my mind’s eye and then, I can let it go! Only then! HAHAHA!!! Words leave such deep scars on a person’s psyche, especially when they are coming from someone who is supposed to love you and whom you trust. It’s abuse, plain and simple. Good thing I wasn’t in your class, because if Edna Twatmonster had asked ME that question, I probably would have responded with, “It’s funny, I was just going to ask YOU the same thing!” Ha! Think I’d get detention? And what on earth is wrong with earth shoes with the reverse soles? I had them, too! I had a pair of tan earth shoes in a T-strap style with little tear-shaped cut-outs around the openings of the straps. I’d actually wear those now, except with regular soles. What can I say? I’m a Child of the Universe, no less than the tress and the stars, I have a right to be here! 🙂
OMG I could FEEL you lugging that crap out. Hahah. XOXOXOXO
*grabs Terri Lee’s hand as they float over the living room*
Looks like that scene from ‘Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’ up here 🙂
But without the fan blades at the top 😉
Wow, Michelle. Several thousands of dollars worth of Fizzy Lifting Bubbles therapy.
Brilliant post.
*glowy smile*
you’re right about casual hurtful remarks carrying so much weight years later – I remember showing my dad my new bikini (I was 19 and tall and slim – not that I could see that in myself) and his comment – “you’ve got a bum like a working bullock”. Really? Just Really??? Where do you go with that? He’s dead and gone now and I can honestly say that not a day goes by where I miss him even for a moment.
Thanks for giving me somewhere to put this – we’ll shrug them off together xx
Yay! I am so glad you are dropping off here. 🙂
My dad is still around. It makes me sad that I won’t miss him, but that doesn’t change the fact that I won’t miss him. It is what it is.
Have you picked out the red dress you are wearing to his funeral, yet?
Hahha. no. I won’t do that. I wouldn’t hurt or embarrass my mother.
I was the girl who never got chosen for anyone’s team. I can feel for you, and I also was unkind to a girl once in a way I’ve regretted for years. I am going to leave my words to her here, without telling you what they were. We don’t know, until we are older and wiser, the damage words can do.
I love that you are leaving your unkind words behind. I have some myself that I need to let go of. xoxoxo
Edna Twatmonster was struggling with her own sexual identity crisis, and she projected it onto you.
There! That’s my 2 cents worth of analyzing her.
I love the way you look. At Erma, I remember thinking when I first saw you, “OMG she’s so beautiful!”
I’m gonna leave a few bullshit things that were said to me here, too. Since you said we could. Thank you. xoxoxo
Thank you, sweetness. That makes me feel really good. I don’t see what you see, but I still appreciate it. xoxoxo
And I’m glad you’re leaving your bullshit here. It can stay here and fester and leave us alone.
Yes we all have those types of exchanges and words. Thanks for a place to leave them ….
Yay for dropping baggage! And once it’s dropped, it’s lost, I won’t be able to find it. 🙂 No baggage claim on this blog. haha.
Omg – no baggage claim here! You are a gem.
🙂
When I was growing up, my mom would repeatedly say ‘why can’t you just be normal’. And it messed with my head for the longest time.
Thankfully, I had a chance to move out when I way 19. 10 years later, and meeting people like you, I now know – fuck normal. Most days.
Fuck normal right in the face! I love who we are. Be you. You are awesome.
Besides, NO ONE is normal. No one. And if someone was completely well adjusted, then that would be weird and they still wouldn’t be normal. XO
My favorite saying about normal: “Normal is just a setting on the washing machine. It doesn’t really exist in any other way.”
So true.
My mom used that line constantly!!! Why can’t you be normal? All I wanted was normal children!! We’ve finally gotten to where I only see her once a month, in a public place, unless she’s on a trip she never brings my kid anything from. Much better.
There is something deep & dark roiling just below the surface of my relationship w/my dad… He didn’t belittle me – far from it! I was “the light of his life”, yet nowadays as he slowly circles the drain of dementia (still knows me, begs me not to leave “so soon”) for some reason I can barely stand to stay in same room with him for more than 10 min.
I haven’t had time nor energy to turn & face it, but must do so soon.
Or not. I mean, maybe facing it would suck and you can just let it go and accept your life as it is. On the other hand, that may be TERRIBLE advice because I’m not a professional. In either case, I am sending you thoughts of peace and light. XO
Val, you might want to read to post on my blog about trust and maybe a few others. I grieved for my dad while he was descending into dementia. Yes, we had had our differences (I think from what I’ve read here that his mother was narcissistic), but later in life when I had a health crisis I learned how much he really loved me and that helped heal our relationship. I felt the same way as you describe, I couldn’t stand to be in the room with him, witnessing the departure of his wit and brilliance. It wasn’t until the day that he died that I realized that he was still lighting up when he saw me, and still giving me his great big bear hugs, until the last days. I let my grief for the loss of his intellect and memory overshadow my gratefulness to be able to still hug him and see his face smiling. I know it’s painful, but try to find a way to treasure those moments, because once he’s gone, that’s it. No more hugs.
My dad was aces at the cutting remark – and never remembered that he said them. He told me I was not artistic. At 62, I only recently started to draw and paint. He also called me Baby Huey. WTF, Baby Huey was a huge, very stupid animated duck. I was a tiny girl at the top of my class. But that has stuck with me for decades. Leaving it here. And I thank you for that.
That is so mean. I am glad you are leaving it behind you. XOXOXOX
Tween and teenage years are so full of anxiety anyways, hurtful comments become amplified! I think it is very clever and sweet to leave a dumping spot!
Thank you! I hope people find it helpful!
Fifth grade. “CM”, she used to tell me I had a big nose. Pete Rose Big Nose. And she used to make fun of my clothes. Which I thought were cute. With little ice cream cones on the pockets.
30 years later. The SO, tells me I am fat, lazy and have cottage cheese thighs. SO I am still struggling with the bullies.
Words hurt.
Yes, yes they do. I am so sorry. I hope you can find a way to tune that shit out. You a fine just the way you are. You are here and that is glorious.
Some people should definitely not be teachers. Kids are cruel enough to each other without the assistance of grown-ups.
I don’t know if adults like that don’t remember how much lines like that can hurt, if they just don’t care, or if they want everyone else to hurt like they hurt.
I don’t know, sister. I really don’t. I just had to decide that she couldn’t hurt me anymore. It only took 40 years. haha.
Forgiveness is a tough one for me. Currently I have three books out of the library trying to figure it out. I am having a very hard time forgiving someone close to me for the hurt they caused me earlier this year.
Maybe it is just too soon.
Maybe it is easier to forgive that shit from eons ago – I have been able to do that in the past.
But this current shit?
Not so easy.
I am reading a book about the Dalai Lama’s take on forgiveness.
It is helping, a little, but I know I can forgive intellectually – it is my heart that is wounded.
Yes, words have import.
I will be careful with mine.
I am glad you are able to leave Edna’s here.
Forgiveness is so hard. I haven’t begun to forgive my father, even though I know it will benefit me. I don’t know how to let it go.
“I’d rather be dead than red on the head”.
Kids can be so fucking mean.
All of those redhead stereotypes? Maybe we are mean as hell because you started teasing us from day one for something that we had no control over??
Of course, my red hair was frizzy. Of course it was. It might have been curly but Mom brushed it. So that helped.
You know you hear those people who say they’d love to be young again?? Who the hell are those nutbags??
I’m glad to be in the “I don’t give a shit what you think of me” era of my life.
There’s that saying “Getting old ain’t for sissies”? Well being young was worse.
oh man..so so so much worse. I wouldn’t mind if my body felt as young as it used to, but I would NEVER want to go back. Right now is so much more awesome.
Boy, my Dad died when I was 8, 52 years ago. My mom died this year at 99. I think it was this year. I know she was 99. No matter, the both of them were hard on me. Fuck, ’em!
Realizing that they no longer have control over me is one thing, acting like it is another. My mom and sister fucking drove me crazy. Now my sister lives a ways a way and I’ll probably not know when she dies. Nifty.
Oh well. Therapy and medication have helped tons. It’s another day. I’ll try to make the most of it.
I think that is the best we can all do. Really! Make the most of it. We might as well, right?
Making the most of it might only be a coffee and smoke your way but it’s still the best of it. So party on! 😀
Excellent idea to leave behind the words of bullies.
Just like Leanne, I remember very clearly my so-called father taking great delight in saying repeatedly how big my backside looked in a bikini- when I was 10, 11, 12…. it went on forever after and probably before that. The thing is, I was actually really slim. Never skinny, but slim. What a twat he was. So much so, I have chosen to not bother trying to forgive him, although if I could forget the hurtful words, that would be as good as forgiveness?…..
I dunno. I wish I did. I will say I am kind of counting on that. XOXOXOXO
🙂 xxxx
I grew up with four brothers and a smart assed mom so I heard things like, “you’re fat or you’re ugly” every single day of my life. I know it affected me in many ways and I have always tried to be mindful of those feelings when talking with my daugher. I never call her fat or ugly…maybe dumbass, jackass, etc but not fat or ugly lol! Words last a lot longer than we think.
🙁 Well, I think you are adorable and I love you like crazy.
A girl once told me I looked like Jim Belushi. She said it very casually and while I don’t think it was meant to be either a compliment or an insult it absolutely broke my heart.
She didn’t have a clue how much of a crush I had on her, mainly because of her resemblance to Susanna Hoffs.
And if you remember the ’80’s you probably know who that is.
Fortunately I’ve since gotten over both crushes. Mostly.
Susannah Hoffs is hot. No doubt.
My niece, who I ADORE, told me (she was around 11 at the time) “Aunt Michelle, you’re so pretty. You look just like Rosie O’Donnell.”
oh. ok….thanks, baby.
Dragging as much stuff as I can handle for now…. S!#$ that’s heavy!!!
Just a large trunk full of the things that my father has said. Leaving the rest for another trip some day…
My boobs are too small for someone to ever really love me. My hair is kinky and out of control like a “N*****” (yeah – he’s a racist bully). I’m smart for a GIRL, so not really THAT smart. My nose is too big. My lips are too big. My a$$ is too big.
Is it bad that I’m actually looking forward to the relief of his death? Thanks for letting me leave so much here. I’ll be back with more later! <3
No. It’s not bad at all. You’re human and abused by your father, how are you supposed to feel any other way? What a dick. Your dad and my dad should get together and go bowling.
Maybe they should do something more adventurous (dangerous)? Like mountain climbing, or sail around the world, or play in traffic in Bangkok, or play Russian roulette?
Brilliant!!!
It took years of trying to please a man who couldn’t be pleased before I realized what the real problem was. I am beautiful. I know that now. I hope you do too.
I’m gonna leave a few things here too. Both those that came out of my mouth and those that came from someone else. That’s a load off. Thanks.
I do! We are! And I love you like mad.
Michelle,
I wrote a poem about this very thing. I am in a class for senior citizens and I am just now discovering I have a voice. I LOVE YOU and your blog. Many hugs, honey, many warm hugs
Every Last Word Is Contagious
Every last word is contagious. What does it mean
To have the word? That you can talk louder
Or longer? That we will never speak of it again?
No! I don’t think so.
Every last word is contagious. Don’t believe
The old story about sticks and stones. Words
Can hurt. It takes you’re wonderful
One thousand times to erase one you’re stupid.
Every little word is contagious. One word made me
Lift weights, dance Zumba and enter a race, just
Because he called me an athlete.
At five years old I heard my mother say she would be
Cute if only her hair would curl. After 75 years I still
Remember the sting. My own mother thought I
Was ugly. Every single little word is contagious.
Harsh words infect the soul with toxic poison.
Loving words infuse the heart with joy.
Words can be a kiss, a caress:
I appreciate you. You are amazing.
Words can be a dagger to the heart.
Leave and don’t come back. You are a
Loser and always will be.
Be aware of the words you choose.
You will never know their impact.
Every last word is contagious.
Fritzy Dean
© 2016
This is beautiful. I am so honored that you shared your work here. Thank you!
I was sort of a little asshole when I was a kid, and to this day I am mortified by some of the things I said, especially to one red haired girl who I thought was pretty in fourth grade, but didn’t know how to get her attention. Argh. So here *lugs odious bundle of words up to the pile and drops them with a thud* Wow, I can’t even express how good that feels. And Laura, I hope you understand that I didn’t really mean those things I said and in fact thought you were better looking than all of the other kids. (I think she figured it out, we signed each other’s yearbooks in 9th grade.)
I had an approach that used insults as motivators that worked OK when I was in my teens. Like the guy who said my friend Mark and I “sounded like dog shit” when we were practicing our electric guitars in Mark’s parents’ garage- five years later we were in that same garage learning odd time signatures from two of the best musicians we were ever in a band with and we sort of looked at one another and muttered “dog shit indeed”…
So thank you so much for the opportunity to unburden a little, as everyone could use a little help with their baggage.
Haha..Randy’s first wife’s name is Laura and she has red hair. I am glad you could lighten your load!
Awww fellow ACON, really feel this. My Narc Dad started to get real mean around the same time, just when what u need is some good old fashion unconditional love. He used to punish me by taking my ‘cool’ clothes away, cutting my hair, making me look even more daggy than I already felt. So cruel. My ten year old asked me t’other day if she can dye her hair blue when she’s older, ‘of course u can hun’ I said, and do u know what, I doubt if she will. As parents to teens we should choose our battles wisely, hairstyles & clothes aren’t big on my agenda. Manys a time I was called a boy, because that’s how Dad wanted me to look, it did hurt, a lot. I look at my girls long blond hair & imagine how lovely it would feel to be young with hair!! At infant school we would all sit on the mat while the teacher read a story, how I would envy the girls who would be surrounded by their friends, playing with their hair. I just looked like a boy..
I’m confident as hell now. Short hair, embracing my grey, at 46 I’ve finally found who I am, by finding out, who I am not. If I could go back in & hug young girl, whisper in her ear ‘dont worry, its him not you’ wouldn’t that be nice. I have seen how u stand up on a stage, you are an amazing, brave & funny woman. Those fuckwits unwittingly helped us to become awesome!! Fuck em!! xxxxx
OMG you are so kind. Thank you for this.
The being on stage thing..it’s so weird. I’m terribly introverted and thought it would be a nightmare, but it totally wasn’t. I was completely at ease.
I will leave today’s words here. In line at the pharmacy counter today.
“You’d be prettier if you smiled.”
Same thing I was told the day after my father-in-law died. Thirty years ago, I smiled because I had been told to. Today, I told the old as fuck asshole “You would be too.”
Still messed with me a little. You know, the whole, you never been good enough/pretty enough/smart enough thing. Why do people teach us that shit?
yeah, thanks for letting me dump this!
You’re welcome!
OMG I know what you mean. I can’t tell you how many times I smiled because someone demanded it of me. Then about 5 years ago, I thought…WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING? I do not contort my face because another person commands it of me. They can suck my dick.
My stepfather legally adopted me when I was in the 2nd grade. He did that so, ( his exact words) ” people wouldn’t know there was a bastard living in his house!” What 2nd grader even knows what a bastard is??? And then his next favorite line was ” your real father didn’t want you…what makes you think anyone is gonna want you?” ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS…he’s dead now 2 years and I can still feel the heat of those words. Trying hard to let them float but they are dug down pretty deep…still gonna try
That is all you can do, but don’t give up trying, okay? He was wrong. You were a child. You did not deserve that. He was broken. And you are still here. 🙂
I still carry the scars of fourth grade. Everyone made fun of me. Literally. One day the teacher made everyone in the class who had called me boogereater or who had made fun of me stand up. EVERY SINGLE KID stood up. I wanted to die. I thought one or two were my friends, but it turned out none of them were. I still tear up thinking about it.
Fast forward to my very small college (1,100 students). Another set of bullies (a particular male social group) made me a target. How I stuck out the four years there is still a miracle, but I can’t help but think how different my experience would have been had they not targeted me. The worst of them died recently. I was never so happy to hear of someone’s passing.
I am so sorry that happened to you. 🙁
I am sending you a big hug.
I still carry the scars of fourth grade. Everyone made fun of me. Literally. One day the teacher made everyone in the class who had called me booger-eater or four eyes or who had made fun of me stand up. EVERY SINGLE KID stood up. I wanted to die. I thought one or two were my friends, but it turned out none of them were. I still tear up thinking about it.
Fast forward to my very small college (1,100 students). Another set of bullies (a particular male social group) made me a target. I still can’t even say the name they called me without having a panic attack. How I stuck out the four years there is still a miracle, but I can’t help but think how different my experience would have been had they not targeted me. The worst of them died recently. I was never so happy to hear of someone’s passing.
I love your hope that those you may have hurt will be able to leave your words behind and move on as well…we have all been hurt by someone else’s words and sometimes we forget that our words can hurt too. Thank you for sharing this!
Thank you! I have to do this to remind myself that self-examination includes even the stuff that is difficult.
Wow! Michelle this really hits home in so many ways for me… Going through some shit in my life that has made me question so many words that have come out of my mouth as well as words that have been said to me. I struggle with rejection so much and words said are always a trigger for me to question my own self worth. I’m rambling and hopefully not too far from the point you were trying to make.
Thanks again for your honest and real posts about this life we must all travel….for better or for worse…
You are awesome. No rambling. And thank you. Xo
Fucking Twatmonster. She had to know, being a TEACHER OF CHILDREN and all, that a line like that would have spider legs for miles and miles and miles. Sadistic cunt.
ANYWAY, have heard from boyfriend and bf wannabes for years how perfect I would be if I lost [fill in the blank] pounds. That screwed me up, because the beast inside me who gives the finger to any authoritarian suggestion of how I can improve myself, got a little too enthused about that and gained 40 pounds instead. Yea, I showed them.
BTW, I had that same outfit. Rust colored cords by Levi. Had Levi cords in many colors. Life was so simple then. 😉
And not to gloat, but am appreciating my dear parents more and more.
Oh man..I don’t see it as gloating at all. In fact, it makes me happy to hear about people who have awesome parents. 🙂
And yes, she was sadistic. That was a terrible thing to do to a child.
Thanks, just worried that I would sound like a smug asshole. Knowing what so many folks had to deal with growing up, and how that treatment resonates in layers for years and years, just made me feel fortunate.
But I still got demons and insecurities for DAYS… 😉 I had a very judgmental, and slightly batty, grandmother I spent LOTS of time with. She did teach me to foxtrot, to waltz, how to play canasta and bridge, arrange flowers, and plant gardens, and how to sew, knit and crochet. I try to focus on that part of our relationship.
‘It’s not you it’s me…’, ‘You’re a lovely guy but…’ – seems like the story of my life this year!
That sucks. 🙁 Here’s to hoping that turns around soon. But believe them when they say it’s not you. I know that might not help much, but I think it’s the best course of action.
Sitting here with an open-mouthed look of silent shock on my face. What the ever-loving FUCK?? Ooooooh, karma’s a bitch, and you don’t want to be anywhere within a mile of Edna when that time-bomb goes off.
Words I shall leave behind:
“Wow, I just can’t get over how much weight you’ve lost. You look beautiful NOW.” Emphasis on ‘now’. And then, at the same dinner party, she continues:
“You could even fit into a bikini now. Well, I mean, you could’ve fit into it before…[pause for full effect]…you just wouldn’t have been able to see it.”
Thanks, Doris. C-U-next-Tuesday.
Okay, so I’ll probably take them with me a little. Because they were so ridiculously horrible, they’re amusing. I feel a little mean sharing them, actually, because they reveal the speaker to be such a complete an utter asshole.
I’m glad you shared them with me. How horrible. What a dick!
My daughter later commented, “Mom, I don’t know how you didn’t just cut a bitch for saying that.” I explained that it really reflected more on her than on me. I didn’t need to do anything more to make it clear that she was being an asshole. But if she insists on continuing her dramatic shock and awe dinner table banter, I’d probably have to speak up. Trouble is this person is very emotionally fragile, so “getting it off my chest” only injures her ego, and she’s not the type who is really interested (or capable?) of learning from it anyway. The only option is to use consequences that make her even more uncomfortable than I am. She then associates picking on me with being made to feel awkward…voila… the behavior stops.
Life just isn’t easy, is it?
my sister and I had to have those god awful pixie haircuts when we were little. can’t tell you how many old men, thinking they were being witty (we were wearing dresses for christ’s sake!), said to my mother “what cute little boys you have.” certainly not a confidence booster when your a little girl……think I’ll leave these words right here…..
You leave them here and I will leave my memories of my pixie haircut as well. They can keep each other company. 🙂
Goodness – so many people having similar experiences. What a cruel world it is at times. What a horrible thing to say to a little girl. I know how much it hurts because I had similar things said to me.
I used to bottle all mine up – I swallowed all my tears and never told my parents what was happening. I suffered with awful night terrors all through my childhood. When you get bullied by sadistic teachers, it kind of gives the kids permission to bully you too.
To this day, I don’t trust people very easily and run a mile at the slightest sign of belittlement. Life has been easier since accepting that I don’t fit in!
It’s quite an achievement that you can leave those awful words behind. It’s made me think that maybe I should try harder to dump the ones that haunt me. This post has probably made a lot of people see stuff like this differently.
It’s easy to SAY we leave them behind, it is harder to do. But I am working on it. I hope you can, too. XOXOXOX
“Fuck normal right in the face!” is a perfect example of why I LOVE reading your writing. It makes me laugh and it gets me. Very few people I know and love get me, so thanks 🙂 Also – this is the only blog where I read every comment and every reply. Your readers/commenters are also the best.
As for all the other stuff – I been the subject of many unkind things (I’m sure I’m still working through a few) and also the instigator of many unkind things (I hope they all forgive me). I will try my hardest to leave it here on the shit pile with all of yours’. Hopefully they won’t haunt me at 3 am anymore…
OMG I hope they stop haunting you. Why do they do that do us? WE NEED SLEEP!!
And thank you so much for your kind words. I am glad you are here!