"You're Ugly"
When I was 12, I used to walk to school through a lovely wooded street in our affluent, suburban neighborhood on Long Island. One day, as I was walking, a tall boy from the grade above mine ambled up behind me. I didn't take any notice of him. But suddenly, he shoved past me, whispering, "You're ugly."
Stunned, I stopped in my tracks, letting him get quite a bit ahead of me. I didn't want to hear that again. Most of all, I didn't want him to see how deeply he'd hurt me and I struggled mightily to hold the aching, burning tears inside of my chest. I'd almost forgotten it had happened when, a few days later, he walked up and did it again, this time snarling, "How'd you get so ugly? I aint' never seen anyone so ugly." Again, I froze, hanging my head in shame. For me, ugliness was the worst thing anyone could have accused me of. Call me stupid, fine, you're stupid, too! Call me lazy, yawn. But ugly! I couldn't bear it. And I couldn't forget it. Weeks and months and years later, I still recall the whiplash of pain those silly words, that silly, cruel boys-will-be-boys sentence caused me. And though, in the 36 years since it happened, I've learned to forgive and forget and that the people who wound us are, as the Buddhists say, our
"noble friends," sent to teach us to be stronger, I still wonder, "Am I ugly?"
Stunned, I stopped in my tracks, letting him get quite a bit ahead of me. I didn't want to hear that again. Most of all, I didn't want him to see how deeply he'd hurt me and I struggled mightily to hold the aching, burning tears inside of my chest. I'd almost forgotten it had happened when, a few days later, he walked up and did it again, this time snarling, "How'd you get so ugly? I aint' never seen anyone so ugly." Again, I froze, hanging my head in shame. For me, ugliness was the worst thing anyone could have accused me of. Call me stupid, fine, you're stupid, too! Call me lazy, yawn. But ugly! I couldn't bear it. And I couldn't forget it. Weeks and months and years later, I still recall the whiplash of pain those silly words, that silly, cruel boys-will-be-boys sentence caused me. And though, in the 36 years since it happened, I've learned to forgive and forget and that the people who wound us are, as the Buddhists say, our
"noble friends," sent to teach us to be stronger, I still wonder, "Am I ugly?"
posted by administrator at 9:58 AM
1 Comments:
Hi there,
I just discovered your blog, and there is so much I can relate to! It's amazing how long insults can stick with us! Why is it we remember them for years, whereas we forget a compliment the minute it was made?
When I was in high school, the town drunk once told me I wouldn't be so bad looking if it weren't for my ugly nose, and I should have plastic surgery done. Ever since, I've been self-conscious of my nose. I never had a problem with it before. I've been paid so many compliments in my life, but, somehow, the few insults are what's stuck with me. Sad...
I love that you are learning to see your beauty! Loved what you said about looking at a picture of you and two of your friends - and seeing 3 beautiful women!
I can relate to so much of what you are writing, comparing the size of our thighs with girlfriends in 8th grade, insisting we were each fatter than the others.
As to what you said about being in a marriage with a man who only insulted you and subsequently developing body image issues... I am married to a wonderful man who keeps telling me how beautiful he thinks I am... and yet, I still find all kinds of things wrong with myself.
I wish you all the best on your journey!
love,
Emily
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