Monday, February 11, 2013

Ever since I can remember, I've been a romantic.

"Touch that birdhouse at the top of the tree...and then I'll marry you"
I said to my Kindergarten crush, Luke. Luke was definitely the first love of my life. However, despite my undying faithfulness to him, he wanted nearly nothing to do with me. I'd chase him around the playground, begging for a kiss that I would never get. I was 5 years old, and already I wanted to be married to this boy. It wasn't that he was even that cute! The kid had freckles, glasses and a blue tooth. Yep. A giant blue tooth. It was literally a baby tooth that hadn't fallen out and was just rotting away. Maybe I liked this boy so much because he made me laugh. Or maybe I felt bad that he had a blue tooth? Regardless, I couldn't figure out why my kinder-love-of-my-life didn't want to be my boyfriend... I was queen of the play ground, I had all of the Barbie stickers any girl could want AND I did not fall asleep during nap time. I shared my snacks with him and even covered up for a lie he had told to the teacher. Why didn't he like me?

Little did I know... so began my long journey in to the world of boys, where this would not be the only time I'd catch myself asking- Why didn't he like me?

Safe to say, Luke and I didn't work out. He liked a tall, athletic tomboy named Darah, and I just couldn't compete with that. My little five year old heart broke into a million pieces the day Darah informed me they were dating. Well, there went my future husband... all 3 foot five of him.

Luke remained my object of affection for the next few years, from a distance of course. I remember on quite a few occasions crying over him even through my elementary years. I would never dare let anyone see though! It was a quiet grieving experience for me. My little girl crush had grown along with me. Luke and I eventually were just friends in later elementary years, and I was happy to be near him. I would cross my fingers, toes and legs when the teacher called out partner names in class. Saying to myself, Lexy and Luke, Lexy and Luke! It had a ring to it, eh? In the fifth grade, Luke moved to my hometown and I soon forgot all about him.

It was about that time... I hit the awkward stage. I was already too tall for a girl, with bright red hair, pasty skin, a big nose, glasses and a bad John Lennon bowl hair cut. Before I knew it, I became the victim of a really mean boy. Jack Shepard. To this day, I don't know why he was so mean to me. He made fun of my clothes, my hair, my nose, my glasses... everything about me. On the play ground, in the classroom... Jack was always terrorizing me. I didn't think I was ugly, actually, I'd never paid attention to how I looked.. but Jack certainly changed all of that. He picked on every flaw and broadcast it to the whole class, all day, everyday. Every insecurity. at 4'9 I weighed a whole 100 pounds- maybe-and the day Jack called me fat at recess in the hula hoop competition, is a memory that will stick with me forever. "You're too fat to be good at it" He said to me as my hoop was the first to drop in the competition with our other classmates. I remember looking at him in the eyes to see if he was joking- hoping that he would smile and say "Just kidding!" or play it off as a joke... but he never did.

Why didn't he like me?

 I'd done nothing wrong to him... I never made fun of anyone, I barely had any friends as it was.. why did he have to pick on me?

That was the night I went home and stared intensely at my body in my full length mirror hanging in my bedroom. Analyzing every flaw. Every out of place scrape, bruise, freckle. Pinching at every part of my body, turning side ways, back and forth in the mirror- convincing myself I was the ugliest girl in the world.
Days like this, quickly turned into crying myself to sleep at night.

Eventually when my parents started investigation my personality change, things had gotten so bad, the school actually made me talk to a shrink.

I know, right? I was in the fifth grade and already I was being advised to see a therapist. Mrs. K. She was of no help. The text book behavioral crap never worked for me. I was a mess of pre-pubesent, hormonal VERY A.D.D child that just wanted to be pretty like the other girls. I couldn't give two shit about "self realization" or being "Happy with the way god made me"- Screw that stuff!

I wanted to look like the girls in the magazines.

I wanted tiny hips, big boobs, flat hair, black eye lashes and piercing hipbones.

Before I stared middle school, my parents moved me back to my hometown in hopes of changing the present situation. That summer before I started the 6th grade, I grew my hair out, forced my mom to let me get contacts, started wearing mascara and I even shaved my legs once every few weeks.

I was a new found pretty woman, who had to do womanly things.

I got up an hour early to straighten my hair, shoved my very uncomfortable contacts in my eyes and stuffed my bra a few times a week like the other cool girls. I wanted boys attention! What did they like? Boobies. Boys love boobies.

All the fluff added to my confidence. Looking good, meant feeling good.
If I looked pretty, I felt pretty. Overnight I went from insecure, picked on little girl- to (what I thought I was) A dangerous, confident, sexy woman. With boobs. Even if they were half stuffed tissue. 

My first official boyfriend was Nick Kibler. Our love commenced over AIM chat in September of my sixth grade year. Nick was smart, and tall and funny. We made a fabulous couple. We were even allowed to go to the movies, hold hands,  AND go trick or treating together. This was it, I thought. This is what love looks like. We were destined to be together, forever. When he told me he loved me before we left school for winter break, I could have just died! We hadn't even kissed and he LOVED ME! Naturally, I said it back to him lough enough to ensure that everyone waiting for the buses outside could hear. I had a boyfriend and he loved me. Suck on that Jack.

       










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