Middle School = Embarrassment

I lived in a constant state of embarrassment my seventh grade year.  My elementary school (Monroeton=best school ever) of only 300 people ended in sixth grade and we all had to go to Bethany for our 7th and 8th grade year (except that we didn't go there for 8th grade because a brand new middle school opened up but I'm getting on a rabbit trail here).  Bethany was a K-8 school and had over 900 students.  All of my friends became cheerleaders...I didn't.  All of my former friends somehow seemed to grow out of Limited Too (now called Justice) clothes over the summer...I didn't.  Apparently all of my friends got to shave their legs over the summer...I didn't.  And it seemed that all of my friends' eyes remained perfectly 20/20...mine didn't, so I got glasses; had fuzzy legs, was really tall and still under 100lbs., with clothes that were no longer "cool" or were high-waters and way too big in the waste aka. nothing fit.  And I was at a new school.  And all of my former friends quit talking to me.  And no matter what I did to try and fit in, nothing worked.  I had one friend that I can claim was a TRUE friend through that year (she knows who she is-thanks girl!).  People never called me on the phone.  No one wanted to sit with me at lunch.  I got laughed at a lot.  I gave Christmas presents to all the girls I hoped to be friends with, and got no gifts in return.  I invited 30 kids to my 13th birthday party, I think only 3 came.  I tried to play as many sports as possible to fit in somewhere.  And this is where one of the more mortifying moments of middle school happened. 

Basketball.  First of all let me be quite clear.  I said I joined a lot of sports teams.  I never said I was good at any of the sports I played.  I remained third string on each team.  When I did play, I was clumsy, slower than others, and a stick...I couldn't muscle my way around a flag pole if I'd wanted to.  Shockingly enough, my coach put me in for a game in the middle of January...a month before my 13th birthday. 

Why is that significant?

Because the weekend right before this game, I'd convinced my mom to let me shave my legs a month before my birthday (as you might have figured out by now, she was making me wait until I was 13).  This was going to be my legs first exposure to the world (since birth) with no hair!  I was so excited :)

Until coach put me in.  And I was walking up to half court to wait my turn to enter the game, I heard the whispers.  About my legs.  And when I started playing the game, while I'm trying to play a little defense, one of the players on my team, who is on the bench, yells out in a really loud sarcastic tone, "Shanda, did you SHAVE your LEGS??!!!"  I swear the whole team heard it.  Mortification alert. 

I still remember the girl that said that to me.  She probably has no idea how that one moment affected me. 

This was not the only moment of complete embarrassment, there was another that I refuse to blog about because of it's content. 

Not many people know this, but my seventh grade year, I contemplated suicide...a lot.  It was a really challenging time for me.  I remember coming home from school and hiding under my bed and crying until I had to come out because someone was looking for me.  I remember my younger sister's social life taking off and how she got phone calls every day from girlfriends and had sleepovers all the time.  It took a long time for my self esteem to recover from this one year. 

Middle school sucks y'all.  I know I'm not the only one with a crappy memory of it.  I KNOW I'm not.  And it's no better now than when I was there.  In fact, it's probably worse. 

Now, enough with all the drama.  I recovered.  I got contacts.  I eventually gained weight and my friends stopped teasing me about being anorexic.  (No joke, a friend in high school asked me if I was.  I never was anorexic, and it's a very serious matter to never joke about and I was very angry she'd even asked me.) I got newer clothes (from thrift stores - but new to me!), and I eventually made some good friends. 

I'm glad it was only 180 days of my life, that stinkin' seventh grade year.  And I'm glad I made it out alive and live to tell about it.  I'm glad for a lot of things that came after that year...like how I grew to love myself for who I really am.  :)