Why, if my skin is soooo thin,why is my ass so big? The early years...

My whole life I have been told "you are overly sensitive" and "overly dramatic". Through out the decades this has meant many different things. Here we will cover a few examples of this in my elementary school years.

When I was young, I did not understand why people would look at me funny, almost irritated, when a huge lump in my throat would appear and I would break out into tears after watching the Koala Bear mom hold her Koala Bear Joey, while they played rock-a-bye baby in a slow and quiet melody on Sesame Street. Didn't they know how incredibly moving and sweet the short Sesame Street clip was?

Then, there was the time when I was at Camp Christmas Tree. Each day before lunch the whole camp would gather together and everyone would look enthusiastically in their lunch bag for the special "horn" that the director would secretly place in some lucky campers bag. Although I can not remember the prize, I remember the grave disappointment and betrayal I felt when by the last day of camp. I never received a horn in my lunch. As a result I did not speak to anyone the rest of the day, starred out the bus window the entire ride back to the YMCA and when I went home I recall just wanting to go to bed and shut myself out from the cruel world.

As I approached my preteen years seared in my mind is a time when an older cousin commenting on my "newly budding body" and said to my mother that perhaps it was time for a bra. At that moment, my mouth fell to the floor, my face turned red and I ran into my grandparents only bathroom and did not come out from the bathroom for several hours until it was time to go home and put my winter coat over my "budding body" so no one else would notice. Well that was pretty embarrassing!

I also have a vivid recollection of my 6th grade teacher taking me aside, and commenting on how my sweatshirt was dirty, my hair was a mess,my pants were too short, my shirt was hanging out and my sweat socks (which were my brothers) were too big and oozing out of the top of my shoes my shoes. He suggested that perhaps I should be more thoughtful when getting dressed in the morning. Mortified by the fact that my wonderful teacher Mr. K didn't think I knew how to dress myself, I would, for the next several months, spend each night obsessing over what clothing would be appropriate to wear the next day and try not look sloppy or inappropriate. Each day, walking into class, just hoping I had dressed "right", sure that he no longer cared much for me as his sloppy student. Mr. K never commented again.

Later that year, my friends and I were hanging out when they decided to play our first game of "spin the bottle". Petrified that my mother would find out and remembering that "I was too young for kissing games" I suggested to my squirrelly crowd of friends that we instate a rule of "only kissing on the elbows" everyone got quiet, I was happy to see them contemplate my terrific idea, and then, moments later, they all burst out laughing, not only laughing but actually rolling on the floor and pointing. I ran the whole way home tears streaming down my face. I was not invited back to another kissing party for many months.

One Day, arriving home from 6th grade, I remember being in a particularly happy mood. I went into the kitchen, said hello to my mother and grabbed something to eat. I will never forget the strange look in her eye as she giggled at me and told me to go bring my books into my room. Thinking I was imagining things, and that my mother was not acting very odd, I finished my after school snack and went to my room where I put my bag on my desk and decided to sit down and rest on my bed for a moment before I made my way to the television room for the latest After school Special. as I turn to flop my self on my bed I notice that on my pillow, was a very large, wet, pile of vomit....oh my g-d I thou gt I hate vomit and someone has gotten sick in my bedroom, on my pillow and no one has picked it up! Immediately I noticed that my room smelled horrible and that my pillow was ruined! With a flash of jolting anxiety I bolted out of the room screaming and crying down the hall to my mother that someone had thrown up on my pillow and left it there! That my room smelled of puke and I was going to be sick! She looked at me with that same strange look, giggled and said I am sorry honey, I didn't feel very good today and I must have forgotten to pick it up! Horrified that my mother could lose so much control and then forget to clean it up I began to sob and run into the living room to hide. The next thing I knew, I could hear my mother laughing hysterically running down the hall saying "its fake! its this new gag gift I bought of fake vomit. It doesn't even smell bad in your room! Its rubber!" And she threw it on the floor to show me. Unable to recover from my mothers practical joke, I remained behind the couch until bed time, sure that my room smelled anyway and waited for it to air out. The next morning I recall taking inventory of my self to see if I felt "flu-ish" at all since I was sure I could catch what ever made my room smell the day before.

Life Lesson #2 - If I only knew then what I know now..People do not usually say things to hurt you, they may feel close enough to you to observe you or care enough to share their concerns or thoughts. Once said you have a choice to take it on as yours or leave it leave it with them.

Life Lesson #3 - Laugh! Even if sometimes it is at your own expense...it will make each day a little brighter.

Life Lesson #4 - Don't be afraid to stand up for what you think is right or are comfortable with! Even in the face of spin the bottle.

Life lesson #5 - If I only knew now what I knew then - feeling things deeply is not wrong or bad, as we get older we we seem to lose our ability to stop and allow ourselves to feel sentimental or touched, to take the time to show compassion and truly feel it. Feeling is good, numb is bad.