As a middle-schooler, I found myself at a difficult crossroads as a homeschooled kid; I didn’t have a large group of friends, and I desperately wanted to ‘fit in’ somewhere.
While I was constantly surrounded by other kids, I often found it hard to fit in. The kids at church were split between those who went to public schools, and those who went to a local Christian school. As you can imagine, the latter group formed a tight clique within the church, which excludeded me.
As a kid, I wholeheartedly threw myself into things that I thought were cool. For example, when we started playing volleyball at the local recreation center, I took a serious liking to the sport.
Whenever my Mom/Dad were running late to take us to the recreation center, I’d frantically scramble to the bus stop so that I could make it on time. My siblings would arrive 7-12 minutes later, like clockwork.
One of those ‘bus trip’ afternoons, I quickly grabbed a shirt from my drawer and threw it into my backpack. It was a new shirt, and I was excited to wear it for the first time. It was bright orange and said ‘Jesus Freak’ in funky letters on the chest.
What I didn’t grab was a pair of jeans. What I wore that day was a shorter pair of athletic shorts than usual.
I never stopped to look down, or in a mirror. Rather, I threw on the shirt with the excitement that a kid has when he puts on a new pair of shoes; I was eager to show it off.
I remember walking through the walls of church that night. Actually, that memory is something I can never forget.
Seared like lightning, my world changed in an instant.
“That’s dorky.”
A stream of laughter followed the comment, as a small group of high school girls walked by me.
They pointed at my shirt, which looked like a dress over my shorts.
My face turned bright red with blood as I ran to the bathroom. I ran to the bathroom because I knew what was coming.
Tears. Hot tears. I had never felt so humilated in my life.
It was the worst feeling I had experienced, up until that point of my life.
It also happened right at the start of Bible study, and I had the torturous thought of going back out into room where everybody else was gathering; likely unprivy to my outfit that night.
I was embarassed that I had been crying, and did my best to wipe the tears away from my face – still beet-red with eyes to match.
That night, my world got shattered with two words. It got shattered in a way I can’t even begin to describe.
I never wore that shirt again.
The next time we went to the thrift store, I had a driving purpose; find clothes that ‘looked cool’ – or ones that had a name on the front of them.
For years, I did everything I could to reverse the memory of those two words. Over the years, I ditched my wardrobed, started working out, dyed my hair, pierced my body and went to every measure to care for my appearance.
How different would my life be if I had gotten a compliment that night, instead of a mocking group of girls?
That’s a great question.
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