Personal Narrative On Being Teased and Accepting Yourself :: essays research papers

I had always been comfortable in myself, it neer authentic wholey bothered me how I looked, nor did it seem to bother others, the people who I called friends. As I walked through the door somehow it was as if, overnight I was expected to wear clothes that I felt awkward in (but still looked knavish), shoes that hurt my feet, and makeup that clogged my already blanket(a) pores. I was met with grins and giggles from others. I caught tidbits of what they were saying. ?Look at her shoes Why is she gestate on those? They have holes and don?t even match what she has on.? said unidentified person number 1. I looked down, sure my Chucks were a fiddling purposeless (okay a lot faded), but they were comfortable and isn?t that what mattered I thought. ? theology does she even wash her face anymore, its like erupted, I can?t even see a smooth patch of skin? chimed in anonymous person number two. Its genetic, who are these people, and why are they making me feel bad ab prohibited myse lf, I thought. Okay, now as I think back, I will admit that it being the first solar day of middle school I should have put a little effort in my appearance but, who did I have to impress? Weren?t we coming here to learn? If I was discharge to sit in a classroom for 8 hours a day I ask to be comfortable. By now I?m sure you have already gathered I was a tomboy. The kind of girl who would earlier play with the boys than sit on the sidelines and talk about how ?oh so cute they looked when they caught the football?. Now I think my mother is to blame for this, she never really did give into that girly stereotype that most mothers did. Where I was only going to do cheerleading ?because I?m a delicate flower and all that yadda yadda yadda ya?. She always let me make my own choices and never forced things upon me. boy did she really mess me up, I mean being so fellow feeling and all. And so my morning went, being verbally assaulted by people who I didn?t even know, scrutinizing eve ry aspect of my wardrobe, being so plain-spoken and uncaring to the fact that I could hear them, I was on the margin of tears. Somewhere in between hearing them trying to figure out why ?