Misguided Protection

When I was a child, the only way I knew to get bullies to stop picking on me was to resort to violence. I’ve always been much bigger than all of my peers, so I used that to “protect” myself. I wrote the following on March 29, 2005…

Growing up I heard a lot of outrageous comments about my size. I had a lot of problems with this in grade school, from both my peers and younger and older kids alike.

Some got to me more than others. One boy in my grade used to taunt me everyday on the playground. It was even worse than if he’d been saying all of those mean and cruel things about me. No, he was saying these things about my mom, her being heavy too. That hurt worse than when the other kids made fun of me.

There was one boy who was a grade below me who used to tease me on the playground as well. He would repeatedly call me fat and laugh at me… that was until one day, while standing at the top of the platform of the slide, I heard that annoying voice of his below me. He was standing on the wooden platform leading up to the one I was on. He got that mean grin on his face and asked me if I thought the slide would hold me. At that point, I stomped on his fingers with my snow boot. That took care of that.

The first time I resorted to violence after being teased was when I was 4 or 5. I was swinging at the playground of the apartments where we lived and having a good time with my friends when the neighborhood bully approached us. He was a 16 or 17 year old geek who got his rocks off by teasing little kids. He stood in front of me and said something along the lines of, “This is my swing now, fatty!” I swung forward with all my might and kicked him where it counts. Instead of just leaving us alone, he stood up, grabbed my swing chains from behind and kneed me in the back over and over. It made him really angry that he couldn’t make me cry, so he started yelling and swearing and calling me “fatass”. After that, he never approached me nor my friends again.

The last bully I remember getting to me was a high schooler when I was in 6th grade. Every time he walked past me in the halls he would yell stuff like “BOOM! SHAKE! BOOM!” and walk like he was being shaken around from my walking. That went on for a long time. My mom called and wrote the school administration. No one seemed to care. I took care of it one day in the hall by slamming him over the head with my heavy math book.

As I grew older and my best and only friend at school moved away for a year, I became even more of a loner. I tried to get involved with school stuff because it had helped the year before in 8th grade. I became involved in pep club and drama and such but still kept mostly to myself. I usually had a table to myself at lunch because I didn’t feel comfortable sitting with the others. I have been fat for as long as I can remember.

Ok, now back to today. That last sentence was somewhat of an odd exit to that journal entry. Looking back at my old journals never fails to fascinate me. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself in my own writing. I guess that just goes to show that we are always growing and changing.

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