Our lives shape us. We become a product of our experiences. This is true of most every living creature to some extent. We do have the capacity to change, but do we … really change, I mean? I had a wonderful exchange with a client, and more importantly friend, this morning which got me off on this tangent. I can’t claim horrific trauma in my life, I’ve had my share… and to some, what I have overcome may have been insurmountable. But to me, I did it… I’m still here. And I’m still “me”-- Sometimes to my detriment.
Growing up I battled my entire life being fat (AKA “husky, big boned, large framed, pleasantly plump”) Not 400 lbs fat, but fat nonetheless. I gained, I lost, I pretended it didn’t bother me, and I cried myself through many a day alone in the Girl’s Locker Room in Junior High. I had, in so many words or less, a “normal” teenage experience. Except if this was “normal”, how come the young girls who tormented me had such a charmed life? How come they always rose to the top and no one made them feel like they had no reason to live? All I wanted was to BE one of “those girls”. I told myself I didn’t, but we all know that was not true. And no amount of my family telling me I was beautiful would ever make it so.
When I was brought back to thinking about “those girls” this morning, I realized that whoever made the rules in 1978 clearly had a sense of humor. My tormentors, four of the worst, in fact were the following: one with dark circles under her eyes (permanently) with a face that would be referred to today as “Old Glory”, calves the size of tree trunks; one with buck teeth and a combined total of about 12 hairs on her head, not to mention a case of scorching herpes simplex that meant rarely a day passed where she didn’t have a cold sore crawling across her face; one that looked (quite literally) like the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz; and one who was, indeed, actually a beautiful girl but had the unfortunate intelligence level of a can of tennis balls.
I won’t say that I don’t wish I could secretly find these four girls and see who they are today, but I don’t allow it to consume me anymore. I imagine they are four women, living with choices they made in their lives, and sometimes thinking back to their youth and perhaps their glory days… wondering where they went.
What I will never know, is if they ever think of me. I will never know if perhaps they too, had a tormentor that shaped a portion of their life in some way. What I do know, is that I am smart. I am pretty. I am strong. I am mindful. I am exactly what I was intended to be. And I also know that inside, that little girl who was angry and scared every day of her life is now a solace and a comfort to me and I will embrace her and love her because she stuck it out and let me emerge.
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