Purging Bullies & Ugly Words

Me in 7th Grade, 1982

I sat at my desk trying not to cry as I quickly stuffed the school photo package into my notebook, hoping no one saw. Why did my grandmother have to purchase these? The thought that she would show them to people, cut out the wallet sized ones and send them to family made me want to throw up. I'd only glanced briefly at the 8 x 10 proudly displayed on top, but the image was burned into my brain along with my mother's horrible words only days prior. "You look disgusting," she said. "Wash your damn face once in awhile," she'd told me. Several of the bullies at school reminded me almost daily in my science class that I was "grotesque". Zit face was a favorite nickname they had for me and sometimes they'd sing the song "Pretty Woman", substituting the words "Ugly Amy." I wanted the floor to swallow me whole on those days.

Puberty is rarely fun for anyone and often it's one of the most vulnerable times in our lives. We're filled with self-doubt, searching for who we're going to be, all the while battling the vicious game Mother Nature is playing with our changing bodies. It was years before I could even bring myself to allow anyone to see the photo evidence of my battle with the puberty beast! And longer still for the sting of my mother's words to heal. The face in the photo above? That is the face I saw in the mirror for a long time. Anytime anyone would tell me I was beautiful, that image would pop into my brain along with all of the self-doubt I'd associated with it.

It wasn't that awkward time in my life that traumatized me, nor did the words spoken from those jackass bullies. I recovered from both fairly quickly. It was the careless words from my beautiful mother that haunted me, wounded me, and rattled my own self-image for a long time. My skin cleared up by the end of the next school year. Karma exacted her justice on those bullies who tormented me (...and it was sweet of her to allow me to see). As for my mother, she died never knowing how her ugly words had harmed me. I'm glad she didn't know and I forgive her.

I understand now more than ever that real beauty has nothing to do with what we see with our eyes. Real beauty comes from within, and I strive every day to be someone who is beautiful on the INSIDE (...which is what the tattoo on my wrist is all about). Today I share with the whole world a photo I wished for years had never been taken. I still think it's one of the worst photos ever taken of me, but I no longer care who sees it, nor am I ashamed of the girl it reflects. If I could go back and tell that 7th grade girl just ONE thing, I'd say, "Never, ever allow mean, cruel or unkind people to define who you are. Never allow anyone to do that but YOU." I still despise the song "Pretty Woman", but for those bullies who are grown now...here's my personal up yours....

Me, 2015...