How 11-year-old Me Stood Up To My Bullies
The following stunts are performed by highly trained professionals under expert supervision — Please don’t try this at home.
Story telling is not in my forte, yet I often myself compelled to write about experiences me and the people around me have faced, though I don't recommend or support any of the dumb choices I've made.
When I was in 5th grade, I was a fairly large child. I proudly donned glasses whose frame was far too small for my face and I had more body hair than any of my brothers (Including a mustache, yes). My appearance was quite questionable, but like, whose isn't, I was 11.
With this came a fair share of verbal bullying. Every boy around me found themselves chanting, “The girl with the mustache” or “Fatty” whenever I was around. They shamed me for my body hair, and didn’t even spare me of the fact that my hair were pre-maturely gray because of a condition I suffered from. Needless to say, I was quite an extrovert who was obviously not going to put up with any of this.
When the complaints seemed fruitless and everyone laughed at my attempts for a comeback, I thought it was time for some action. That’s how I found myself in my mother’s kitchen at 3 in the morning, mixing all sorts of spices I could find in a salt and pepper shaker. This concoction that I had created was one hell of a blend, guaranteed to burn your eyes, hands, and tongue. 11-year-old me named it “For Naughty Boys” and knew exactly how to use it.
My best friend and I were patient until we heard the last chime of the bell and everyone gathered on the huge sand filled ground outside. That’s when we decided to enter our villain era. Taking the help of another accomplice, one by one, I grabbed each of the boys and made an attempt to throw the red mixture in their eyes. They couldn’t bully what they couldn’t see. Needless to say, it was quite a childish attempt and the wind that day made it impossible to cause any harsh damage. As guilty as I am to admit it though, creating a havoc on the ground, with boys speeding in all directions to escape my wrath, I felt satisfied.
That's when things went downhill. I didn't think of the consequences I would be faced with when any of those children reached home. As any 11-year-old would, they complained to their parents of my doings, conveniently leaving all parts which included them bullying me. (One even accused me of choking him, I mean?)
That’s how I found myself at the principal’s office everyday for the next two weeks, getting threatened to be kicked out of the school. My parents couldn’t know because of their strict and uninvolved nature, therefore talking my way out of it was my only hope. Thankful to God, I barely saved myself, with every bone in my body jiggling after that harsh scolding.
It was definitely a lesson to learn. Your actions have consequences, no matter how deserved they feel. Nevertheless, this is going to make a memorable story to tell my grandchildren of how badass their grandma was.
And If you’re wondering, the bullying never stopped.
