I haven't seen Barbados...
I was about 5'7 when I was 13, and I'm built like a linebacker. I became a tomboy almost in defense. You can't be girly at my size. My few attempts were laughed at and ridiculed. (Looking back, I can't say I blame anyone on that one.)
I felt so huge and cumbersome then. Who wears a C cup in grade school? It it took me years to realize what I had in the sisters. I was like a giant bull in a china shop. Ever tried to be that giant chick in school? I played it up like I didn't care, that I was above all that, didn't need it.
I wish that was true.
I spent my early years as a teenager secretly wishing I was thin and pretty like Stephanie in Grade 8, who seemed so willowy and mysterious. She had amazing red hair, and boys who always wanted her. I wanted to wear Esprit and Jacob Girl too, I wanted Benetton. I wanted Vuarnet.
I wanted to be a girl, not someone stuck between the fence we call gender. I don't fall evenly on either side, and that's a bit of an issue in grade school. I hadn't grown enough at the point to say "fuck y'all bitches" and not care. I CARED. I cared more than I have ever, ever let on. I wanted to be girly for my mother. I wanted to be accepted in the "club" I wanted to wear my hair in those retarded banana clips just to be the same as everyone else. Lord, I just wanted to be wanted for once.
At some point some "friends" who were boys noticed the sisters, and undertook what I think was a bit of a competition to see who could get into my pants first. I think I knew what was going on, even then, but wanted the attention so badly I didn't much care. I can still feel those clammy, young boy hands on me. I always remembered thinking I was so much bigger than them.
When one of them coerced/forced/begged me into going farther than I wanted, I didn't feel big at all. I felt used, and dirty, and sad. I didn't say no, but I didn't want it. But I wanted to be wanted, so I went along, stared at the stars, felt cold grass and concrete under my skin. I let him walk me home. After that, when we saw eachother, it was a wary stare, and he'd say something disgusting while I felt like shit. Eventually, I learned to tell him to go fuck himself.
I should hate them really. I don't. I could have put the kibosh on it at any time, and I didn't for awhile. On some levels, I liked it. On most levels, I would have rathered they been strangers. The one thing that has always really bothered me was the thought of them talking to eachother about it. Laughing. Plotting.
The other guy was a little more ineffectual. He never frightened me. But the other, the would be rapist, on some level he did scare me. We'd been friends for a few years, so I knew what he might do. And I could never understand why I, someone who felt so strong and impenetrable most of the time, felt like a cowering little girl around him. Why did I become that fragile image at the worst possible time? Why could I never see that void in his eyes and just walk away first?
It only solidified my inability to BE a girl, to be fragile and to need people sometimes. It cemeted a wall that I still hold, that prevents me from asking for help. It kept me, and keeps me still, from accepting any compliment at face value. There must be a catch. No one is nice to me for no reason. No one wants me, or loves me, or lusts for me. All because two bastard 14 year olds had what I'm sure they considered to be some fun.
It took me another 7 years to see that people did lust for me, did want to love me. If I'd let them.
I eventually got the Vuarnet. I never got that night back though.
I felt so huge and cumbersome then. Who wears a C cup in grade school? It it took me years to realize what I had in the sisters. I was like a giant bull in a china shop. Ever tried to be that giant chick in school? I played it up like I didn't care, that I was above all that, didn't need it.
I wish that was true.
I spent my early years as a teenager secretly wishing I was thin and pretty like Stephanie in Grade 8, who seemed so willowy and mysterious. She had amazing red hair, and boys who always wanted her. I wanted to wear Esprit and Jacob Girl too, I wanted Benetton. I wanted Vuarnet.
I wanted to be a girl, not someone stuck between the fence we call gender. I don't fall evenly on either side, and that's a bit of an issue in grade school. I hadn't grown enough at the point to say "fuck y'all bitches" and not care. I CARED. I cared more than I have ever, ever let on. I wanted to be girly for my mother. I wanted to be accepted in the "club" I wanted to wear my hair in those retarded banana clips just to be the same as everyone else. Lord, I just wanted to be wanted for once.
At some point some "friends" who were boys noticed the sisters, and undertook what I think was a bit of a competition to see who could get into my pants first. I think I knew what was going on, even then, but wanted the attention so badly I didn't much care. I can still feel those clammy, young boy hands on me. I always remembered thinking I was so much bigger than them.
When one of them coerced/forced/begged me into going farther than I wanted, I didn't feel big at all. I felt used, and dirty, and sad. I didn't say no, but I didn't want it. But I wanted to be wanted, so I went along, stared at the stars, felt cold grass and concrete under my skin. I let him walk me home. After that, when we saw eachother, it was a wary stare, and he'd say something disgusting while I felt like shit. Eventually, I learned to tell him to go fuck himself.
I should hate them really. I don't. I could have put the kibosh on it at any time, and I didn't for awhile. On some levels, I liked it. On most levels, I would have rathered they been strangers. The one thing that has always really bothered me was the thought of them talking to eachother about it. Laughing. Plotting.
The other guy was a little more ineffectual. He never frightened me. But the other, the would be rapist, on some level he did scare me. We'd been friends for a few years, so I knew what he might do. And I could never understand why I, someone who felt so strong and impenetrable most of the time, felt like a cowering little girl around him. Why did I become that fragile image at the worst possible time? Why could I never see that void in his eyes and just walk away first?
It only solidified my inability to BE a girl, to be fragile and to need people sometimes. It cemeted a wall that I still hold, that prevents me from asking for help. It kept me, and keeps me still, from accepting any compliment at face value. There must be a catch. No one is nice to me for no reason. No one wants me, or loves me, or lusts for me. All because two bastard 14 year olds had what I'm sure they considered to be some fun.
It took me another 7 years to see that people did lust for me, did want to love me. If I'd let them.
I eventually got the Vuarnet. I never got that night back though.
We never will. Please note the we.
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:16 a.m.
It's amazing how much we're forced to learn at such a young age and with such little time. The experiences that come from our teenage years somehow manage to shape the rest of our lives.
I wouldn't wanna live those years again if someone PAID me to do it!
Posted by
Anonymous |
1:54 a.m.
I wouldn't want to live the teenage years again. Ever.
Now if only I could have stayed 21 forever.... *sigh*
Posted by
Anonymous |
11:10 a.m.
Hey, I had big boobs in grade 4. I thought being called "Big Bertha" was being called fat, but busty, so, as a curvy pre-teen I went through life feeling fat and ugly.
Ugh, hated being a teen. The Husband was the only positive thing I came out of it with.
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:17 p.m.
I didn't mind being a teenager once my heart was broken, since I had finally gained a bit of "fuck y'all". And I finally realized at one point that yes, I AM attractive to some people. That helped. My husband helped too.
Posted by
thordora |
2:10 p.m.