Posts Tagged “mean girls”

by Emily Willingham
Written at Age 17
Age 13 at the Time

Well, they told to do this first-day-at-school thing and write about the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. We’re living in the best time of our lives, the teacher said, and one day, we’ll look back on this paper and realize that. Right now all I can think of is how bad everything is, so I’m gonna write about the worst thing that ever happened to me instead. The teacher can’t do anything about it. Maybe the worst time was my best time. Maybe my stupid life has been that bad. How would she know anyway? Teachers hardly ever know the first thing about how terrible life is, and I think they’re some of the ones who make it that way. I had this one teacher who always said, “Life isn’t fair.” I always wanted to point out that she wasn’t helping any.

So I went to boarding school last year when I was thirteen. That’s when all the worst part of my life began. Before that, everything was fine –- I even liked my parents and my little brother. Now we fight a lot. Especially me and my brother, but we always fought, just not as much.

There was a meeting one night where all the students in my dorm met each other, but the only important ones that mattered to the worst part of my life were Jessica, Tiffanie, and Lita Mary Starr. These three girls weren’t the really popular ones, like all the blonde girls from Dallas, and they weren’t the nerdy little ones like me. They were just kinda in-betweens, and I guess they didn’t like it there.

One thing I noticed at that meeting was that everyone in the dorm knew I had gotten a scholarship. They all knew it; they’d come up to me and go, “Aren’t you the one that got the scholarship? You must be smart.” And I’d say, just as a joke, “No, just poor.”

Evidently, a lot of these girls took that to heart and kinda stayed away from me, especially when they found out that my closest family member in Who’s Who was my third cousin twice removed, and my dad had gone to public school. I didn’t even know that was bad. I’ve been going to public school all my life, except for that one year, and it’s just as good, except you have to write dumb papers like “The Best Time of My Life,” plus all the people aren’t so stuck up.

Now I’m going to skip to the really worst part of my life, because all the stuff in between was OK and not very interesting. Just know that during that time, I was starting to hate almost everyone in the world because they were all so catty and mean. Sometimes, just because I hadn’t heard of some place called “Brinn Mar,”—people in Waco don’t talk about places like Brinn Mar, they talk about Dallas, or Houston.

Anyway, along about November, these three girls I just talked about got up a little “joke” against me. Personally, I don’t know how they mustered up enough brains between them to think of it, but they did. It was like this: right next to our dorm, we had this teacher who sold candy for what they call the Martin Luther King Fund. I had been visiting this quite often, in support, and I was getting kinda fat and my skin wasn’t looking too good, anyway, I went there a lot. One Sunday, I got my last dollar and went to get a Snickers. On my way back, I saw Lita Mary Starr walking toward me like she was on her way to buy candy. Well, I said “Hello” and didn’t think much of it, even when she smirked at me because she always smirked at me. I went back to my room to read this Agatha Christie I’d just checked out. Ten minutes later, Tiffanie came knocking on my door, so I let her in, even though I didn’t want to. I have a really hard time being outright rude, even though Tiffanie didn’t. She went straight to my jewelry box, where I always kept my money, asking if she could borrow some change. I said sure, but she just poked her fat face in and then banged down the lid and ran out of the room.

This got me wondering, so I stuck my head out of my room just in time to catch the three of them, Jessica, Tiffanie, and Lita Mary, running out the door, kinda giggling. I knew that something was up; once they stuck a whole load of someone else’s wash from the dryer in my bottom drawer, hoping I’d get into trouble for stealing it, but I found it and put it back.

Anyway, I followed them, and just as I was coming around the side of the dorm, they were coming toward me. Tiffanie pointed at me and said something like, “You’re up —- creek you little —–.” “Oh, Lord,” I thought, “here we go.” She pudged over to me, waving this damned dollar bill in my face (sorry, Mom). “You see this,” she said. “Just before you stole this, I wrote on it – see? Right there.” I looked down at the dollar and there were these words on it – I don’t remember exactly what it said because I was feeling all hurt and my throat felt like it might bust. I tried to say something like, “I didn’t take your stupid dollar,” but I couldn’t. I just started crying like a little kid. Tiffanie waved it in my face. “All of us,” she pointed at Lita Mary and Jessica, “saw me write this on this dollar, and we know you stole it because Lita just saw you coming back from Mr. Preston’s.” Mr. Preston was the teacher selling the Martin Luther King Fund candy. “We went to Mr. Preston’s and looked, and this dollar was on top of the money in his box. You took it, and I’m going to the headmaster.”

Well, I didn’t do anything right away. I just went to my room and sat on my bed, wondering if I had gone unconscious or something and taken that dollar or maybe I had two people in me. I don’t know why I was wondering all that because I just knew all along that Tiffanie was lying. I knew why Lita Mary Starr had walked by me when I was coming back with my Snickers.

Tiffanie got me in front of the Student Discipline Committee, all right, but they didn’t believe her or didn’t believe her enough, and didn’t give me any punishment. Except that it didn’t matter because the whole school though I stole and I had to live the rest of the year with people calling me “thief.” One girl from my dorm even told the whole story, with me as the thief, on the bus coming back from a town trip one night. She talked really loud, and I could hear her from the back of the bus. I wouldn’t even borrow anyone’s clothes, even though everyone did that, in case they might “forget” and think I stole them.

One day, I was puttering around the library when I ran into Lita Mary Starr. She was always the nicest of the witches to me, even though it was a totally two-faced nice. I looked at her for a second, and all of a sudden, this question fell out of my mouth, almost before I had time to think of it. “Why did you do that to me, Lita?” And all she did was look kinda uncomfortable and say, “I don’t know.” She didn’t know. How could somebody not know why they do a thing?

Well, I think I’m going to be better off in public school from now on because no one gets scholarships to make people think they’re poor or needy and some of the people even get free lunch and no one cares. Plus you don’t get accused of stealing because everyone has lockers with locks and we all live in different houses. That’s the best part of public school. Getting to go home separate from everyone else. Where your parents know you’re not a thief, no matter what stupid girls say. It’s the worst part of the best time of your life, and it’s better to go home, even if you have a little brother.

Originally published on: The Big Girl Blog: Tales of a Plus Size Princess in New York City
By: CeCe Olisa
Age 9 at the time

When I was younger I would hear stories about kids being teased because of their weight.

When I would hear those stories, I would think about how awful it was for those kids who were made fun of, but I would also wonder what made me different because, although I was a big kid, those things didn’t really happen to me.

At age nine I was best friends with the most popular girls in the fourth grade. The leader of our group was Riley Baker. Riley was beautiful, all the boys were in love with her and she had the type of personality that made you want to do whatever she said. We called ourselves the Red Sisters because of a blood oath she convinced us to take one day after school.

If Riley was the queen of the fourth grade, recess was when she held court. Everyday after we shared our goldfish crackers, sandwiches and caprisuns we would roam the playground. We felt we were too old to play on the jungle gym like the 2nd and 3rd graders but we also knew we were too young to make our way over to the softball field where the 7th and 8th graders hung out.

So we walked… waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, Riley would make something happen. Sometimes it was flirting with boys, sometimes it was lying on the grass listening to Nirvana on her Walkman. Then there were the afternoons when Riley’s claws would come out. There were two girls that she hated and both were on the chubby side. If Riley crossed paths with either of these girls, the Red Sisters would stand in silence as Riley tore into them; criticizing their clothes, their bodies, their hair and anything else she could think of. The Red Sisters never added any insults, we were actually cool with both of the chubby girls when Riley wasn’t around, but our silence spoke volumes.

These girls had it rough because if they cried it would only bring them more negative attention. On the other hand, when one of the girls got fed up and told a teacher what Riley was doing to her, it was even worse. Riley was put into detention for 3 days and gave the Red Sisters strict orders to pretend the girl didn’t exist.

I can remember feeling bad for the girls but feeling relieved that Riley was my friend. I also remember feeling confused because I knew that I was actually bigger than both of these girls who were being teased about their weight. I knew it was twisted, but I was grateful that Riley and the other girls looked past my size and still allowed me to be a Red Sister.

When Riley returned from her stint in detention, we went back to sandwiches, goldfish crackers and caprisuns followed by walks, boys and Nirvana. Riley had a new boyfriend and hadn’t harassed anyone in a while so things felt pretty normal. One day, we decided to roam a little further across the school yard and found ourselves chatting in front of a brick wall outside of the 6th graders classrooms. We were waiting for something to happen, but as usual, nothing did.

The bell rang, signaling the end of recess. We all stood up to head back to class, the other Red Sisters turned the corner and Riley, who was in front of me, abruptly turned around. Suddenly it was just the two of us standing against the brick wall.

“You need to lose weight,” she said.

I felt like she had punched me in the stomach.

“I-I… I know,” I stammered.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I wanted to tell someone, but what was the point? I wasn’t sure if I was going to have to plead for my place as a Red Sister, but before I could think of anything to say, Riley turned on her heel and headed back to class.

I stood against the brick wall, alone.

“Celeste…”

I turned around and Mrs. Arcane the 6th grade history teacher had her head poked out of her door.

“Yes, Mrs. Arcane?” I said, nervously wondering if she’d overheard what Riley said to me.

She took a deep breath “You know, with friends like that… you don’t need enemies.”

Annie Fox is a fantastic social skills problem-solving resource for tweens, tweens and their parents, via her Middle School Confidential book series and her online Hey Terra! teen advice column. She also has several upcoming Bay Area speaking engagements and workshops. Her website is www.anniefox.com, and you can also follow Annie on Twitter.

Our thanks to Annie for graciously letting us feature a sampling of her Hey Terra! questions and answers about teens and bullying on Can I Sit With You? today. We hope teen readers (and their parents and teachers) will find this information useful.

—-

“I want to leave the mean girls but part of me doesn’t.”

Hey Terra,

I want to make the change from being in the popular mean girl group to the nice people. The nice people have accepted me but I’ve seen a few friends from the popular group and I realize it’s going to be hard to tell them I want to leave! I have best friends in the non-populars, but I’m starting to freak out because what if when I get back to school I’ll see them and be like “I should be with them!” Today at orientation two of the girls were in the corners gossiping and half of me wanted to join them but I pulled away! What should I do??

Nice Bitch

—-

Dear Nice Bitch,

Whenever you’re having trouble deciding what to do, it’s a good idea to look at your options and weigh the PROS and CONS. This exercise can help you compare the benefits of being with the “nice” people vs. the “popular mean girl group.”

After you’re finished, take a look at the two lists. Decide what makes more sense to you.

A word of caution: If you decide to move away from the “mean” girls towards the nice ones there might be some fall-out. Worst case, the mean girls may try to turn others against you. I’m not suggesting that you ought to freak out and worry about this now. That would be foolish and a waste of your energy. Just be aware of that as a possibility. If it happens, know that you have the ability to deal with it in a mature and peaceful way. On a positive note, it’s possible that some or all of the “mean” girls will be inspired by your choice and realize that they don’t want to be thought of as “mean” any more because it’s not really who they are! It would be a pretty cool thing if by being true to yourself you motivated others to do the same.

By the way, there’s no such thing as a “Nice Bitch.” Either the “real” you is a nice girl … Or you’re not. Can’t have it both ways. Ask: How do I see myself? How do I want others to see me?

In friendship,

Terra

“I can’t help it if I have breasts and they don’t!”

Hey Terra,

I am 11 years old and I have a period and unlike the zillions of girls in my school, I have big breasts as well. It’s embarrassing when we have physical education classes because we have to change in front of everybody else and if I change in the stalls, which have doors and locks, I would be laughed at. Recently someone looked in my schoolbag and found my pads! She scattered them on the floor and I had to pick them up all by myself! What can I do?

Embarrassed

—-

Dear Embarrassed,

The girl who scattered your pads on the floor was acting in an unkind and immature way. My guess is that she felt a little jealous because you had already reached this phase in your physical development and she hadn’t. That made her feel “less than” you. Sometimes when people feel “less than” someone else, they try to put the other person down. It’s nuts, but that’s what some people do when they feel jealous.

I know it’s hard to be different from other girls at this time, but I guarantee it won’t be too long before other girls “catch up” to you when it comes to breast development and the rest.

I know, I know, you wish your breasts were smaller right now so you could blend right in. (And I get regular emails from girls who wish they had larger breasts!) Bigger, smaller … And then you think all of your problems will be over. It’s not about your body. It’s about the “real” you … your gifts and talents and how you use them to help others.

None of us get to choose the body we’re born with and even though you are currently having issues with the size of your breasts, they are a part of your body which serves you in so many amazing ways. Since you can’t change your breasts, you need to work with whatever you can control … And that’s your point of view. You’ve decided that it’s “embarrassing” to have those breasts. What if you shifted that opinion just a bit and decided that “these breasts are OK just the way they are.”

If I were you, I’d talk to the P.E. teacher privately, calmly, and respectfully. Let her know what happened with the pads. Let her know how you feel about changing in front of the others and LISTEN to what she says. I guarantee you’re not the first student she’s had with these feeling. Do yourself a favor and talk to your teacher. She will help you feel less uncomfortable about the changes going on.

In friendship,

Terra

“What can you do when people just stop talking to you?”

Hey Terra,

You just recently visited my school. I enjoyed your talk, but it also made my friend and I a little uneasy. You talked about how sometimes friends grow apart, and sometimes people just don’t like each other anymore. Well that has happened to my friend and I. Last year everyone was getting in fights and there seemed to be different groups that all hated each other. This year I thought things would be different and everyone could just get along… and they did, at first.Everything was going fine until one day our whole class just stopped talking to me and my friend. Our other friends would just walk by us and glare at us like we had done something wrong. People would talk about us behind out backs and laugh as we walked by. We had no idea what was going on. I chose to talk to one of my friends about it and she said that she wasn’t mad at me, but that it just seemed like I was too depressed to have friends. This I did not understand. I was never depressed and I always thought that I was actually a happy person. The only time when I was quiet or sad was when no one would talk to me besides my friend (the one that people were also mad at). I don’t know what to do, and my friend and I are very confused. Please help.

Very Confused and Lonely

—-

Dear Very Confused and Lonely,

People can be very insensitive, can’t they? I have no idea why some of you “friends” would choose to “just walk by” and “glare” at you. I’m very glad you and your friend have each other, but I’m sure you’d like this negative behavior toward you to stop.

Like I said when I came to your school: you don’t get to control the way other people act (or how they feel or what they think). But you can control your choices. One of the choices within your control at this time is to talk to the people involved. You say you did talk to one friend who said she “wasn’t mad” at you. This explanation she offered about your being “too depressed to have friends” is not helpful, even though she probably thought it would be. I mean, what are you supposed to do with that information!?

My suggestion is that you talk to one of the school counselors. I guarantee that you will be listened to with respect and receive some good advice. Talking to them about what’s going on would be an excellent choice on your part.

I hope this helps.

In friendship,

Terra

“I’m teased at school and all my mom says is ‘Ignore them.’”

Hey Terra,

The kids at my school tease me because I’m a vegetarian and I’m not good at sports. I feel like I don’t have any real friends because they’re constantly telling me how weird I am, and this one girl, that I have to sit next to, enjoys throwing my pens and notebooks off my desk. I’ve tried telling my mom about this, but all of the things she told me to do didn’t work, like ignoring them and laughing with them. The say my food is gross and they never listen to what I have to say. Sometimes I get so frustrated, that I start screaming at them. Then they ask me why I’m so mad. It’s like they purposely upset me for fun. What should I do?

Still Screaming

—-

Dear Still Screaming,

Thanks for writing. I’m sorry that you’re going through such a rough time right now. What these kids are doing is rude, insensitive, and cruel. I can’t say that I understand why they are doing it, but I totally understand why this is so upsetting to you.

Your mom loves you and she is trying to help with the advice she’s giving, but it’s not working. That’s not your fault or her fault.

Please show your mom this email and talk to her again. Let her know that you need her help in getting through to the adults at school.

The law says that every school is responsible for the safety of all of its students (that means physical safety and emotional safety). Teasing is NOT ACCEPTABLE.

Either with your mom’s intervention or on your own, you need to speak up and let teachers, the principal and the school counselor know what is going on and how you feel about it.

It’s their job to make sure this behavior stops. The students who are teasing you also have parents who ought to know what’s going on. Get your mom to get in touch with their parents. Teasing is serious business and kids need to get the message that it’s NEVER OK to make fun of people.

If you talk to the principal, etc., and nothing changes, then have your mom go to the school board.

Keep speaking out. It’s your right to go to school without being teased.

By writing to me you show that you have courage and that you want to make a change. That’s awesome. Now I hope my reply gives you the courage you need to take the next step.

Let me know what happens. I care about you.

In friendship,

Terra

V.B.D
Fourth or Fifth Grade

It was the teasing by the other elementary school kids that solidified my shyness, and has kept me from easily making friends ever since. Interestingly enough, I still remember trying to lash back at the kids who teased me.

It was valentine’s day, and I sent a card to one boy, calling him a “regurgitated eggplant.” It must have been fourth or fifth grade; I remember how he read it, giggled and showed it to one of the “prima bulliettes”, and then looked at me, puzzled, as if he just realized the hatred I had for all of them. Almost as if he had joined in the “fun” around him, and suddenly saw that I was not having “fun” with these girls. I cannot remember much more about him, but I think he might even have stopped.

The problem was the girls never did. Maybe they never do, as I have met the same type of girl over and over again. The girls who do only see problems in others, who need to gossip about or ridicule others — do they even know they are doing this because of their own subconscious inferiority? I cannot give them credit for cognitive reasoning. I just leave them to their tabloids and cell phone chatter.

by SK Knight
Fourth Grade

Fourth grade girls,
squashed Mobil Oil cans
scrunched on the soles of their feet,
had the power to stomp in tight angry circles,
stand two inches taller and feel connected,
not fall off the face of the earth,
dragged off the earth by fear.

“I know all about your father!”
said the snot-nosed crew-cut kid.
“I know because my father is a cop!”

Mobil Oil cans on both my feet
gave me the idea for one quick second
that I’d like to smash his face straight
and hard into the ground,

and then I’d fly off the earth, free.

But, afraid of his father, of him,
of the thing he knew about me,
I scrunched down on Mobil Oil
and walked away, making damn sure
they didn’t fall off my feet.

By Alicia Rios
Age 13 yrs at the time

I hated Karen Morley in year 8. She had naturally blonde hair so light it was nearly white. Her no-makeup skin revealed the colourless spots beneath to the world. When she laughed her small teeth were yellow against the red of her too-large gums; and she laughed a lot. Her clothes were boring and old fashioned, as if her gran had chosen them. She had no friends. Despite all of that, the boys seemed to love her. They flocked around her like seagulls around fish! And she had a boyfriend called Colin.

But she was so boring! She never said anything. She just laughed. She laughed at their jokes, she laughed when they teased her, she even laughed they asked her questions instead of giving an answer. But still they flocked.

Tania and I often stood frowning, arms folded, watching in disbelief. Now Tania and I – we were interesting, clever and funny. We could joke back, tease them with attitude and hold our own in any debate. We knew about football, politics, psychology and Marc Bolan. We also spent a lot of time on our clothes, hair and makeup. So why were they hanging around with her? She couldn’t even crack a joke and she had yellow teeth for goodness sake!

I can’t recall much about what we did to Karen Morley that year. I do remember Colin kicking Tania really hard in the playground for calling Karen names. I don’t remember the names that we called her but I expect being boring and yellow teeth were mentioned. We were outraged at his reaction. We had just wanted the boys to see what we saw. They were supposed to turn against her, not us.

Three years later Karen Morley and I sat together in the Form room only a couple of months away from leaving school. All animosities had long ceased. We chatted and laughed about teenage girly stuff. Then suddenly she told me that Tania and I had made her life Hell in year 8. She said we had sent her a card on her birthday and when she’d opened it “We all hate you” was written inside. I was devastated. I saw all the pain of that year in her face.

Karen Morley was a nice, pretty, not particularly clever person. She had never done anything to hurt me, but I had really hurt her. I remember that I said I was sorry and did not know what else to say. I wish now that I’d told her what pretty hair she had, how attractive her laugh was, and how destructive and powerful jealousy can be.