A true story about what happens when girls get together for a sleep over. No, its not pillow fights and sunshine.
When I was younger, I was seriously shy. I was also very gentle, and even had the comment made in my grade 6 yearbook “To the kid who was never mean to anyone.” I still do not consider myself a mean person, but I am definitely not shy.
As a child it is natural to want friends, and in those days you usually made friends with people in your neighbourhood, as I did. Unfortunately for me, in the pecking order, I was on the bottom. To this day I regret I didn’t just walk away and do without this type of friend, I would have been better off with none.
Photo Source http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Clown_fear.jpg
Here is what happened. It was one girls birthday, I think her 14th. Lets call her Elaine. She had a few friends over for a sleep over in their finished basement. There were probably five or seven of us altogether. The party went well enough, the sleep over too, I suppose. Then her mom took her brother and went shopping.
At this point, it turned bad. Most of the other girls had developed breasts before I did, so when it was time to change I felt totally subconscious and went into the bathroom to change. Needless to say, I was ridiculed. This was not the worst of it.
Girls at that age are very much into exploring make up and glamor. They are also very much into being cruel. Since there were an odd number of girls they paired off, each applying the other ones make up then exchanging spots, leaving me out. Well, I guess you know what happened next.
I knew it too, or at least I suspected it very strongly, but didn’t want to say anything to show that I distrusted these “friends”. So I sat there, very still, and waited my fate. I could tell they were putting far more make up on me than they had each other, and were trying to make it sound like I looked so good.
To this day I honestly do not know why I became their affection for such brutality, I do not know what I did to them to deserve it, or how I could have escaped, even now I have not had closure.
Well sure enough, I went to the bathroom to look at myself, after they assured me I looked so terrific. And, yes, as you guessed, I had been made to look like a clown. With no disrespect to actual clowns intended, but I was devastated.
Photo source http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sad_clown.jpg
I washed my face and gathered my things for the 2 block walk home. On the way I met Elaines mother coming back from shopping, she asked where I was going. I made up an excuse why I left, I was too intimidated to tell her what happened. I suspect the girls never said anything either because I never did get an apology or anything. I never even said anything to my own mom for fear she would judge me poorly, or say something which might make things worse.
Years later, when I was in my 30’s, I was living in a different city, and a car stopped, it was Elaines mom. She recognized me and was pulling over to say Hello. They too had moved away. I had a moment to tell her what a monster her daughter was, believe me the thought entered my mind, yet I was frozen, taken back to those years of being bullied, and said nothing. I was still the victim.
Awww, 
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