Now that Press & hype from my episode of Botched is dying down, I figure that only the people who really want to know what it’s like to live a day in my shoes and not hear about the PG version per se, will be the ones reading from here on out. I will begin detailing moments from my personal life in hopes of having people who relate to me, talk about it and let me know that I am not alone. Then we can begin spreading the word of the Gospel- just kidding– just spreading words of love for everyone and teaching people that being a good person and shining from the inside, out makes so much more of an impact then being mean or negative.
I want to share with you a story about a REALLY mean person from my past. Think back to the time when you were in middle school. Now add, a few zits, slightly spread apart teeth, changing hormones, average body size, and a thick red scar on your chin. While I was SO lucky to have a close knit group of friends who happened to be popular in middle school, it was so hard to try to be normal when I would walk in the hallways, and random people would point at me and say, “Eew! That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!” Or, they would jump back against the wall when I walked by for fear that if they got near me, they would ‘catch’ what I had. Those moments kept reminding me that I was no longer that innocent and naive 10 year old girl without a scar. I was now a ‘monster’, ‘freak,’ and ‘ugly’.
One day in particular stands out. I was on the bus ride home. The bus was packed as usual. Out of no where, one of the loud kids on the bus yells, “who do you guys think is the ugliest person on the bus?” And without a flinch, he screeched, “HER” as he pointed to me. Several kids on the bus mouths dropped when they saw where the finger was pointed. Even they knew that what he said was awful. Especially since I was nice to everyone. When he pointed to me, all I did was get up from my seat, face still red, and walked to the front of the bus to take a seat. I was mortified and wanted to burst into tears but I couldn’t for fear of being even more the ‘center of attention.’ I sat in silence the rest of the bus ride and when I got home, I walked to my bedroom and just cried.
Cut to a few years later and I was 16 years old. I see this asshole at a party! Of course, I strategically hid my scar when I saw him– scared that he would point me out again in front of everyone. I tried at all costs to avoid him at the party actually, but as the night wore on, I couldn’t avoid him any longer. I felt his eyes on me throughout the party. He came up to me as I was standing by the CD player, tapped me on my shoulder, smiled, and asked if I knew of a good song to play next. I realize then, that he didn’t recognize me. Those eyes staring at me were that of a boy who seemed interested in me. He continued to be flirtatious with me as I mumbled a few words out about music. Within a minute or two though, I just walked away into another room and stood in the dark. I had a wide range of emotions. I really hope he doesn’t recognized that it’s me. Am I the one who is laughing last? Nope–because there I was, at a party with a basement full of scar-less teenagers, alone in the dark– and when I was ready to show my face outside again, he was gone.
In the end, nobody won.