Moments...

While reading Annie's Rexia, it made me really think about certain moments of time which just stayed in my mind and have haunted me. I don't think of them most of the time, but it has stayed in psyche and in subtle ways affects my dealings with people.

I think I switch between the social butterfly and the rather awkward geek-hermit. The social butterfly switches on only when I need something, like my wheel-and-deal persona. Otherwise most times I go to the latter and therefore find it hard to socialize for friends, rather than networking. I find it rather hard to form bonds, and even harder to trust people. I think my fear and paranoia get the better of me most times. I feel like everyone is out to get me.

Moment #1: Not Cool Enough
This happened sometime in 9th grade. I was always rather friendly with boys and tend to get along more with them. Perhaps I'm really just a tomboy at heart. I was never really interested in them sexually and treated them as my pals. Likewise, I have to assume that they found my refreshing to talk to, and perhaps useful in later matchmaking attempts with chicks I did know. The girls however, are another ballgame. I had considerably less gal-pals as I wasn't the giggly, gossipy type. Nor was I very good at girl-politics. I guess they didn't like someone different, and I'd like to think that they were perhaps jealous at my ease with boys.

There was this one girl in class who was a total tomboy. Athletic, sporty and not very lady-like in movement. And had no clue how to deal with boys. We got along well because we weren't into the girly things. She was fair, blond, blue-eyed and stuck out of the sea of predominantly dark-eyed, dark-haired, desi girls in school. Lets call her Ritz. Now Ritz became a guy-magnet as we grew older. And finally she had a crush. On the gay guy. Anyhow, since I got along with guys, she looked to me for advice and all, and I gladly helped her. I was her wing-man - or rather, wing-woman. I was her chaperon to movie outings with the boys, and eventually she moved on beyond her gay-guy crush and started dating someone who was straight.

The problem started when she started hanging out with the bimbo group of similar light-haired, light-eyed and impeccable-skinned girls. A plan was made to meet up with some guys for the movies. She spoke about in front of me and I assumed she asked me too. And the conversation proceeded without her correcting my assumption.

I found out a day later from another girl that Ritz was bad mouthing me. She said I invited myself to the outing and that I couldn't come because the group said I wasn't 'cool' enough for the group. I was big-boned. I wouldn't call myself fat, although I thought I was because most girls around me were of the petite frame and short, making them look like tiny lil dolls while I looked like the gigantic, gangly freak. I had clear skin. Good hair. But I never wore make-up. I never liked it. It was a pain to remove. I suppose compared to the bimbos, I would look a little frumpy. Anyhow, I was really upset. Because getting my dad to let me go anywhere out took at least three days of begging and pleading and even more to come up with a good reason why I had to cancel.

But more than that, I was upset by the flakiness of her. I helped her and she just forgot all that for greener pastures. And the icing on the cake was finding out that everyone in my circle of friends were invited except for me and another over-sized girl (who had thyroid problems).

And how has this stayed with me? I get dubious around cliques of good-looking people or the 'in' crowd. And I never assume I'm included in anything unless someone expressedly gives me an invitation. Even amongst my family.


Moment #2: Sack of Potatoes
This happened in A-Levels. I was even skinnier than I was in 9th grade, due to the tonnes of medication and steroids pumped in me. And I used public transport, which meant walking for about 5kms a day atleast. The problem with my body shape is that no matter how much weight I lose, I will look big due to me getting my dad's bone structure. And I have a rather square silhouette, even more pronounced then as I had flatter boobs (no sexual activity then). I corrected this recently by using padded bras despite having ample cleavage and wearing clothes that show off my assets and taking attention away from my tummy and towards my hush-puppies.

Back to then. Being rather square, most clothes made me look more masculine then curvy and feminine. I didn't really care. I liked being comfy over being a tart. I went out with another frenemy, who I'll call Babs. We both went out for billiards and bowling and she called her guy friends over, and her boyfriend. The guy friends took a look at me and were polite with me. I sensed that they were not happy with my being there and felt them being a little dismissive with me. I ignored most of it.

Later on, Babs told me that one of them had remarked that I looked like a 'sack of potatoes'. She chided him but laughed just the same. I didn't react much on her, but that really did hit me hard. I started starving myself for about a day or two before I fainted and realized that regardless of whether I get skinny or not, I'll always be shapeless. So then I started binging, and put on more weight. I thought, damned if I do, damned if I don't. I might as well do what I want anyway. If there's any sort of anti-anorexia where all the person wants to do is eat and get fat, I'd probably be the top person with the disease. Perhaps Compulsive Comfort Eating Disorder.

I don't think I let it get to me much, but when I am rather self-loathing, I instantly remember that. And when I look in the mirror, I end up silently agreeing with them. Even when I do feel I look hot, I remember the words.


Moment #3: The Misplaced Bitching-Note
O-Levels was probably my darkest time in my teenage years. My parents had recently split, I had a rather catastrophic first-time, and I had just started the medication. Teenage years are always hormonally-driven and angsty. But even more so for a teen with hormonal imbalances and PCOD, with medication that made mood swings even more severe. I'd be high as a kite one moment, only to be suicidal the next. And even in a segregated school with a desi mentality, cliques occur and all the high school drama happens.

I had just lost my erm, cherry and it wasn't pleasant. I had alot going on my head, and I had crushed on a guy who became my shoulder to cry on, but didn't feel the same way about me because he had a crush on one of my other friends. With that complicated mess to sort through, excuse me if I wasn't the chirpiest person around. We have a habit of passing notes around in a book that passes of as a rough book.

One day I picked up the wrong book. Because in that book was a very detailed group chat (excluding me obviously) about my recent cherry-losing time and how I could be so slutty in sleeping with one guy and crushing on another. I should have shut the book but my eyes refused to let me do so. I had to forcefully shut it, but scribbled a small note at the bottom saying 'Thanks. I now feel so much better. Mars'. And stopped talking to them. Eventually they apologized and I made up with them, but I never forgot.

Life hasn't been very kind to me in terms of finding Mr. Right. I don't intentionally choose to have multiple partners, but can't help it when the person I give my all to gets up and heads for greener pastures. The body count has reduced over the years due to being rather picky and lack of time for dating, but I know that the numbers will never stop until I do come across Mr. Right, if he ever exists. I know most people will think me as being slutty and what not - even my own sister believes that I am. The only thing I can do is ignore it and not let it bother me. But I have never forgotten that.