8.5 on the Richter Scale
This is a tough one to write about…self esteem. I had glasses (and a patch) at the age of 4. Did I get called “4 eyes” in school? Yep! I was overweight. While other girls got to wear the cute clothes, I had to order the “husky” sizes. It was torture for me when the school nurse would come weigh us. My friends were sixty pounds to my 85 or 90! Boys in my class, one in particular, would knock me down and then say “8.5 on the richter scale”! (At this point in my post, I would like to say a special “hey” to that fella. He probably has no idea, but I think about it every time I see you!) I couldn’t run fast. I was always the last to get picked for Red Rover and the first to get “out” in tag. On top of that, I had braces. So far we have an overweight girl, with glasses and braces, who wasn’t as agile as the others!
As if all of that wasn’t enough, there were challenges with my friend group. There were about five of us girls. We had a “leader”. She would decide, every couple of days, which one we would all be mad at. I would have my mom bake gingerbread or stop and buy bags of bubblegum, in hopes of “earning” my way into the “safe zone”. It was misery on the days when I was the one to be mad at…the whispers, no one to sit with at lunch, no one to hang out with at recess. I also remember the “leader”, bending our hand back and smacking it with a ruler. Geez!!!! I can still hear certain songs that give me that same nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach, that I had going to school, wondering if today would be my day. Needless to say, I went home early a lot.
As I hit middle school age, I talked my mom into taking me for makeup lessons, at the local Estee Lauder counter. I also started going to the beauty shop twice a week to get my hair done. Most girls my age were wearing jeans and sweatshirts. Here I was full makeup, hair perfectly coifed, matching head to toe and a designer purse (a large one, I might add) in 7th grade! Now I had gone from ugly duckling to looking like a young business woman amongst my 12 year old peers! I was also still carrying the extra weight. None of this was conducive to getting a boyfriend.
All of this occurred during those critical, formative years, when I was learning who I was and what the world saw me as. Kids can be brutal. They may excuse it as “playing”, but those derogatory comments regarding weight, height, complexion, speech or anything else, hurt. They not only hurt, but scar.
I lost the weight, but no matter what I weighed, I still saw myself as 8.5 on the richter scale. To this day, I have a difficult time looking people directly in the eyes. The many rude comments I got as a child, about my lazy eye, rush through my mind.
I’m a 44 year old woman, who still carries wounds inflicted by words, during my childhood. Because of this, I loathe hearing children make fun…even if they say it’s “playing”. If you’re a parent or grandparent, I encourage you to have a discussion with your children, regarding how hurtful words can be. If you happen to be a young person reading this, please let my story sink in. (and thank you for thinking I’m cool enough to spend your time reading my blog!)
Have a fantastic week and know that you are ENOUGH!
Marada
