"Your own mother doesn't want to be your mother!"

When I was twelve, my dad and my mom split up because my mom had a serious drug and alcohol problem. I lived with my dad, who eventually got a new girlfriend. 

Of course having her as the new mom-like figure in my life, and me being an immature teenager, I always told her that she wasn't my mom and shouldn't act like it. It always made her furious, which I enjoyed. 

But I'll never forget the last time I said that to her. We were arguing outside of my brother's school in her van, waiting for him to come out. Full on screaming and pulling each other's hair. 

When I said it, she replied with, "I know I'm not your mother! I don't want to be your mother! Your own mother doesn't want to be your mother!" 

I let go and sobbed into a big ball. 

She felt terrible, but I'll never forget how her words made me feel. 

I knew my mom wasn't around, and I had always blamed myself for that for absolutely no reason. But now my dad's girlfriend was giving that fear a voice that would always play in my head from then on. 

"Your shoes are very pink."

Growing up, my family didn't have much money. My parents always tried the best they could to provide for me.

In 8th grade, my mom treated me to a new pair of pink lace-up work-style boots from Kmart. I was so excited about them and confident that I could rock them, until I wore them to school.

After a day of awkward stares, I was walking to the bus stop when one of the popular kids told me, "Your shoes are very pink." 

I excitedly replied, "Thank you!" and I was feeling suddenly confident again. 

He chimed backed in as I was walking away, "I never said I liked them." And I was immediately shot down.

I went home and cried that night, and never wore the shoes again. The shoes my mother worked so hard to buy. 

It's funny how words can hurt a child so deeply.
 

"She sounds dumb anyway."

I moved to the USA from Costa Rica when I was 10 years old. English was not my first language, but I was doing pretty well. 

In 8th grade when I was 14, my school went on a trip to saint Augustine, FL. Everyone decided to get henna tattoos, but I didn't have enough money for one.

When one of the chaperones asked why I wasn't getting one, I said, "I just don't want a TA TU." (I mispronounced it because of my accent.) She laughed and told me to just call it a tat. I tried to say it that way, and then I told her that I thought that made me sound dumb. 

As I walked away she turned to her son and said, "She sounds dumb anyway." They started laughing. 

I turned around and told them that they weren't being nice, but they didn't care. They just kept laughing at the 14 year old girl who had an accent.
 

"You're the winning team."

I could never commit to school. I've always been very anxious and weird, and of course that's blood in the water for the horrific nightmare sharks that are children. 

The one thing I actually liked doing was writing, because I could express myself without feeling overwhelmingly self-conscious. 

A teacher that I genuinely liked and respected, who I think came to know me exclusively through the essays I turned in, once told me, "You're the winning team. People root for you." 

I don't necessarily think there's anyone screaming my name from the bleachers, but for one meaningful second, I felt like maybe things would be okay.
 

"What kind of a retarded freak are you?"

My birthday is in September, so I was just 11 years old when I started 7th grade. My Spanish teacher was going over the lesson, and I kept mispronouncing several words. She finally exploded at me in front of the class and said, "What kind of a retarded freak are you?" 

I turned bright red while more than 60 eyes zeroed in on my agony. 

Later that day, I went home and just cried. Cried and cried. My parents were the type that felt the teacher could do no wrong. It was the first time in my life someone other than family had made me feel so worthless and useless. 

Somehow, I made it through 7th grade and the Spanish language well enough to become fluent in it. 

Years later, I became a New York City teacher. I spent about 30% of my time as a teacher speaking Spanish with students, most of whom were from Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. 

In my last year teaching before I retired, a student asked me why I became a teacher. It was at that very moment I actually realized why. 

I never wanted another child to be publicly humiliated by a teacher like I was by my 7th grade Spanish teacher.
 

"You always bring up inside jokes from like, weeks ago."

As a kid, I was always social and funny. I loved life, and I loved laughing about inside jokes with my friends. 

One day in 7th grade, my two best friends sat me down to stage an intervention.

One of them said, "We've been discussing this, and we need to confront you."
I had no idea what was going on.

The other friend said, "You always bring up inside jokes from like, weeks ago. And they're old. You can't do that."

I was shocked and hurt. But I didn't feel like my friends were being ridiculous for banning me from bringing up funny stories from weeks ago. I was twelve and impressionable. So I believed that my tendency to laugh about "old" jokes was "wrong."

I became very conscious and careful about the expiration dates of my jokes. 

Even now as an adult, when I hear people reminisce about stories and experience from weeks, months, even years ago, I think to myself, "Wait, I thought that that wasn't allowed."

Thunder Thighs

When I was in middle school, a group of boys used to come by my locker and call me Thunder Thighs. This gave me such a complex that I started dieting so hard, and I eventually began to starve myself.

My parents were so busy that they didn't even notice, until one day a neighbor said to them, "She sure looks good now that she's lost all that weight!"

My stepmom actually looked at me and said, "Oh, I never noticed till now." 

I realize now that my extreme weight loss was a call for help. But no one asked me why or how I had lost so much weight. They all just thought I looked good. 

Now, many years later later, I'm Facebook friends with one of the guys who used to make fun of me. I wonder if he remembers what he used to call me. I've never brought it up to him. 

I found out recently that he has cancer, and I do feel bad for him. But his words still haunt me. 
 

"Bigger, larger, hairier and uncut."

One day in middle school, I was talking to a goofy guy I kind of liked and another guy who was always sort of mean to everyone. When class was over I said, "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow." My crush replied, "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," and then stage whispered to the other guy, "...undressed."

I assume he was trying to be flirty and cute, but before I could really react to his comment, his friend scanned my body from head to toe with his eyes, scoffed, and said, "Yeah. Bigger, larger, hairier and uncut." (A timely reference to the South Park Movie.)

Now, I DO admit that the joke was solid, but those words basically fueled a life-long insecurity when it comes to men finding me attractive. 

I am 30 years old, and getting married in April. Those were the first words that came into my head when I tried on my wedding dress.
 

"You're shaking the ground!"

I was in sixth grade, and very chubby for my age. 

We were lining up to go somewhere, and a girl behind me said, "God, you're shaking the ground!" 

Now whenever I walk, I always fear that I'm actually shaking the ground.

Spelling Bee Silence

In 7th grade, my best friend and I both made it into the final round of a school wide-spelling bee. We were the only two people left standing, which was a pretty big thing. We were the best spellers in the whole school! 

The winner would advance onto a regional tournament among the winners from a lot of different schools. 

I ended up winning the bee, and my best friend cried because she lost. She was so devastated that she had to go home. 

She never congratulated me or told me good job. 

Now we're juniors in high school, and I can honestly say this story is a perfect example of our relationship and how it still functions today.