Sticks and stones
may break my bones
but words will
never hurt me.
What a bunch of horse shit. Yet, how many of us sang that very song as we walked away from some bully as kids? With an imaginary chip on our shoulder, we sing-songed through it and acted like we didn't care. But, we did.
I can't really talk for you. But, I can tell you, I cared.
I mostly got made fun of for my name (you just have no idea how many nick names there are for "Elizabeth"), or my accent (I grew up between California and Kansas. I never had the right accent in either state) or my weight.
I wasn't a fat kid. I was active and played football, baseball, woofleball, hung from clothes lines, played Hide and Seek, Tag, swam vigorously and many more fun things to do outdoors. But, genetics being what they are, I started to get a bit thick around 10 years old. By 13, I weighed 136lbs. This was a tough number for me, because it was the "heaviest" weight my mother had ever weighed ... and I was hitting it in 8th grade. In high school, I fluctuated around 155lbs. Looking back, I had legs of steel, a nice toned back and a soft, but mostly flat tummy. It was just never good enough (in my eyes).
Nick names like "gut" and "fat ass" played through my head when I looked at my body. Or, worse, a comment made about the size of my clothes or shoes haunted me when I went up to the next size or the next. If I was fat two sizes ago, well, what did that make me now? Even years later, an insensitive comment might surface and pull back my sensitive self esteem. I'm now 42 years old and weigh 221. I'm down from 232 ... oddly I feel like I have to tell you that in order to justify that 221 somehow. I've learned that children are just mean. Plain and simple. I am so thankful not to have grown up in the age of Facebook, Instagram, OoVoo, etc., where kids maliciously attack other kids even to the point of suicide. The worst I had to deal with was whispering, a secret note being passed or flat out being called a name.
At 42, I really don't care what people think of me. Well, that's a lie to a point. But, in place of my body, I want people to think I'm smart or a good mother. I've learned I'm sexy no matter what weight I'm at and although I may not be able to wear everything on a rack, I find what suits my body best and go for it. I have even finally forgiven those that made me feel smaller out of their ignorance. I did, because, quite frankly, if you stay in the past, you just don't ever move forward.
I know you were probably called names too, bullied or abused. I want you to know that I'm sorry that happened to you. That I wish I could wipe away every bad word, painful experience or tear and replace it with encouragement, laughter and self-esteem. It's much easier said than done, isn't it? Far too easily, some rude comment plays in the recesses of your mind when you try on clothes, or see yourself in the mirror.
You have to move forward, my friend. You ARE beautiful. Those that bullied you were WRONG. There was NOTHING about you that should have been picked on. When those nagging thoughts fill your mind and you begin to doubt yourself, you need to tell them to "shut up." And, you also need to tell yourself that you are beautiful. It may be hard to look at yourself and say those words. But, you need to hear it. And, if no one is telling you, then you need to say it to yourself. Say it with confidence! Say it with defiance! Yet, say it. And, accept it.
Challenge of the Day
Lay to rest all of the stupid, ignorant, mean, horrible, hurtful things you have been told by allowing yourself to believe in yourself and see yourself as the beautiful person you are. Remind yourself that children are MEAN. That kids (or unfortunately, some adults) said things through ignorance or their own self-esteem issues. You didn't deserve it. Ever. Let it go... Believe in yourself. Until next time ....
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