I was tall in elementary school, I towered over the boys pretty much and was called, “Lurch” or “Stretch” by them in honest fun…a few of my friends in turn started calling me “Shorty”, I didn’t mind…I was tall and skinny, like my Dad. Summer exchanges from 6th grade to 7th grade I just kept getting taller and was still a bean pole, with braces…I kinda looked goofy. So really nothing out of the ordinary until the next year, during school physicals when the nurse said that I was too heavy for my age and height. I was 5’7″ and weighed about 160. I didn’t look fat but she insisted that it was unhealthy, well so was the school’s food…but I took notice that I was enjoying food more than before and would buy doubles of subs, pizza and desserts for lunches. I was a growing girl. I was going through hormonal changes, I was hungry. What do you want from me?
Moving onto Junior High, I got into sports so I was kind of active but active with an appetite. Gaining another 10-15 pounds, my parents weren’t too concerned, it was the early 80’s nobody taught us about issues with food and weight. They didn’t seem to notice, but the kids at school sure did. Especially the boys…oh the boys, to which I really had no interest in at all. (Save that story for a later post) The names started soon after that, Fat Kat, Fat Ass, Fat Slob, if there was a word they called me it definitely was shared with the word “FAT”, the whole sticks and stones thing followed by words will never hurt me, who ever came up with that poem, was never the subject of being picked on in school. The girls were just as critical of my appearance, and once friends before turned vicious and cruel because I was not like them…I had my little click of friends who too were casted out by the “cool kids” or the “snobs” because they were different and it was these handful of people who helped me get through the things that were going on in my head. They didn’t judge me, there was no need to…and all was good…but those damn boys…they just couldn’t resist to have their fun at my expense. Walking down the hallway to class, poke my books out of my hands so that all my homework and notes fluttered about on the floor, and some taking those pieces of paper and ripping them up and throwing the torn pieces at me…”Oops”. I could only muster up dirty looks and no words. It was like that into Senior High, it was worse then. I was a heifer by this time, close to 200 pounds, but the height masked the weight. Family said I was just big boned…I was just a big and tall girl…with a big butt.
My grandmother, told me that my shelf butt was from a great great great relative…yeah, it was great great great to know this…I will let the kids know at school my fat ass ran in the family…don’t pick on me. But they continued to do so…
Sitting in class one afternoon, I started feeling something hitting me and noticed that I was being pelted by over-sized spit balls and there were two of the guys behind me taking turns throwing them into the back of my jeans…you know when you are overweight you get that plumbers look…without the crack…my jeans made a small basket for the boys to practice their bucket shots. Turning around and telling them to stop made them laugh and you just turn back around and cry inside.
It wasn’t just in school, I was treated like shit in my own home when the boys would call my house. One night in particular, I was home alone (parents were out) and the phone rang. It was one of the guys from my class. The conversation was about me going out with one who I did like in a friendly way. I was asked if I liked him and I said yes. He then proceeded to ask me if I was going to the dance that weekend, I told him probably not, he asked me why, told him had nobody to go with, he said you can go with me. He asked me if I would go out with him…but he ruined the moment because in the background there was snickering and I knew that I was being teased. I told him to Fuck Off and slammed down the phone. Immediately the thought of going to school the next day was terrifying as hell. I went in my bedroom and cried myself to sleep.
I didn’t want to go to school the next day, but I went and the events of the day escalated. First I was reminded of the phone call the night before. I was given a note and read it. It simply said “Why would I want to go out with someone as fat as you?” I crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash. Went to class and greeted with cow moos by one of the boys who called me…I didn’t let it bother me, flashed them the finger and sat down in my seat. We had a test that day…and the papers are collected and passed out so that others can grade your papers. I failed…not because I didn’t study or anything, I failed on purpose. I got it in my head that if others thought of me as a failure, I should act like one. I was actually very smart in school but because of the torment I was living, I thought why the hell would I want to be in the same grade class as the ones who teased me and were just fucking mean to me. I still to this day try to understand why they were so mean to me, sure I was overweight but I didn’t look it. My parents and their parents knew each other, and my grandmother was the local Avon Lady, she knew everybody and I would go to these same kids houses and they were no different from who I was. We were in the same middle class bracket, there was nobody who was out ranked. But in school I was treated like shit. Treated like a low class citizen…and not even treated like a human being…and I didn’t know why. Why?
Why? Why was I treated differently? Because I was fat? Because my hair was short and sometimes not maintained properly so that it disgusted someone to actually put a note in my locker saying “Wash Your Hair”…really?
My day wasn’t over yet, there is still that last poke of fun they had to get off their chests, the one thing that sent me over the edge that made me just want to crawl under a rock and die. The day that suicide crossed my mind, where I just didn’t want to live life anymore…fuck them all. Assholes. Coming out of study hall and heading back to my locker, was walking ahead of some of the guys, not the usual ones who were picking on me, but new blood, new names, but one of them is considered family,…a second (or third) cousin…and he called me a name that to this day, I remember so well and haunts me. Just a play upon my name of Katrina, removing Kat and inserting three new letters. Cow. He said behind me, “Mooo-ve over Cow-trina!” and it made everybody in that hall laugh. I wasn’t laughing. I turned around and told him to “Shut the fuck up!” and ran to my locker in tears, and not one of my friends that I did have, asked me if I was ok. Nobody cared, they just continued on their way and I was left to fend off the emotions and the deep desire to die. I was quiet the rest of the day, one of the girls I was friends with took notice that I was too quiet and asked me why? I asked her if it mattered if I was quiet or not and she replied guess not. Thanks.
I was a Senior, in a month school would be over with. And I didn’t know whether or not I would make it to see graduation. It seemed so far away, I knew that my grades had slipped dramatically to the point where going to summer school looked like where I was headed. It wasn’t my fault, they wouldn’t leave me alone…they wouldn’t stop, they kept poking and prodding me like a cow heading to slaughter. Cow-trina. I felt nothing…there was no feeling to describe what I was going through. Nobody fucking cared anyway. At the end of that day, I went home and swallowed a handful of sleeping pills with a beer I stole from the refrigerator and took out the blade from my Father’s razor, and started carving into my wrist…tears flowing nonstop, this is not what I wanted to do, but I had no other choice to end the pain. I had nobody to talk to, I couldn’t tell my parents what was going on in school, they wouldn’t have believed me and there wasn’t anything they could have done. We didn’t have the resources back in my day for kids to feel comfortable in talking to people in school…you would be labeled crazy and next thing you would be strapped to a gurney with happy meds going through your system. No, you kept your mouth shut, nobody wants to hear about what ails you..you pussy. Oh, you getting called names in school…oh boo hoo hoo!!!
I don’t remember anything from the time I was ending it all, don’t remember going to bed, and I recall was very disappointed when I woke up the next morning. Thankfully it was a Saturday. I had the weekend to prepare and figure shit out till Monday. I failed at taking my life just like I failed in school and life. I was Nineteen. (I sang that…and smiled.)
What the hell could be so bad at that age? Well the past 5 yrs prior with all the ridicule and names, the stares and pointing fingers, and lack of any kind of self esteem, and the disappointment of waking one morning along with the intentional failing in school because I didn’t want to associated with….THEM….I don’t know, what do you think…there wasn’t a term for it that I knew of…I didn’t know that I was being Bullied. I didn’t know that 30 years later, kids are still contemplating suicide for the same things I went through. I managed to overcome my bullies. The pain is still there but it has subsided over the years. I am older and more wiser and my voice isn’t so quiet nowadays. I am not playing the shell game, because I came out of that years ago. I survived bullying. I will stand up for anyone who is bullied. There are people out there who will listen, you do not have to go it alone. I wish I had someone who stood up for me. If you are a student and need help from a counselor right now, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
http://www.stopbullying.gov/respond/be-more-than-a-bystander/index.html
http://www.nea.org/home/neabullyfree.html
Mindset Overload 