5,6,7,8 and Beyond Part 1

I remember in the 5th grade I had reached 100 pounds at the doctors office. I was SO proud. And expressed it verbally. My mom and doctor smiled and gave a little laugh. I really had no impression that there was anything wrong with my body. My high self esteem saw this as getting bigger and stronger, even though I had a round tummy just like my grandma. Feeling strong was very important to me because I was recovering from a broken elbow. I had enough in my 5th grade year to worry about. So I celebrated this moment with my growing body.

Later in my fifth grade year, however, bullies were NOT celebrating my body. A different kind of bullying started. I say different, because from 3rd grade on I was quite used to kids trying to hinder my confident style. They couldn't handle the heat! So they started calling me fat as a different tactic to get to me. Now, don't worry, this didn't immediately phase me. Because the people I love and trusted told me otherwise; they told me I was beautiful just the way I am. Why should I listen to some punk kid who tried to throw dodge balls at my head? Which, by the way, was never successful. I remember one day I caught it and threw it at his chest. I was feisty! But this feisty nature started fading by the wayside in the 6th grade. I had started a new school that strayed away from most of my peers throughout elementary school. In the hopes, the bullying would stop. Well, kids are assholes and it didn't stop at a new school. And with lovely puberty bringing on a new set of emotions, it started to shake me. Luckily, I had two friends and a wonderful teacher who helped to boost my spirits in both the world of self image and math. I think I was her favorite because she let me wear polka dotted baby heels which was definitely against dress code.

But by the end of 7th grade I was over the unflattering uniforms, and those set of people who were bringing me down. Plus, I don't think my parents really liked that school. So in the 8th grade, I went to the same middle school my sisters went to. Hoping it would be different. Boy, oh boy, was I wrong. First of all, middle school is awful. It is a cesspool of insecurities and hormones. I was no exception. I became quite shy; a shell of myself. I felt unrecognizable and was a loner because of it. Eating lunch by myself was something I was quite used to. I wanted to be as small as possible in the hopes of not being a target. Well, that didn't work either so now I wasn't my bold self and was still being bullied. This is when dance really became my saving grace. This is where I could be my big, bold, full self, with a community I loved dearly. 5,6,7,8 were happy numbers to queue you into a leap as high as the sky. Instead of rough school years.

But because being a picked on, loner kid with raging hormones wasn't enough. 9th grade threw something else at me, a knee injury. I ignored it because I had to keep dancing for my sanity, and because I was a kid who thought they were invincible. News flash, this mindset didn't help the situation. So by 10th grade, when it got undeniable, I was scheduled for surgery at the ripe age of 15. Luckily, I was able to do a musical in a lite role before it. Then, a few weeks before Christmas, came the day of the procedure. For those itching to know, I had dislocated my knee so badly that I ruined part of my cartilage. So it needed to be replaced, by a cadaver, and reshaped. No doubt, that I am special. This tanked my mental health. I couldn't dance for 6 months. Thank goodness I have the parents I have because I am sensitive, and wear my emotions on my sleeve. And this was probably hard on them. But somewhere along the line, I accepted my fate, and let my body rest. Once I was given the all clear of strength by my doctor, I vowed to listen and take better care of my body so that this never happened again. I didn't want anymore knee surgeries before the age of 30, I told myself.

The day I got the all clear, I was in dance class that night. I remember the hesitancy because, a), my muscles didn't move this way for 6 months and, b), I was scared shitless. I thought my gun ho attitude would get me further than just in the door. But now as I am writing this, I know showing up counts way more than most of us give it credit for. I was ready to try. With time and the understanding I would be better off doing intermediate classes to build up my strength, I became more confident in myself and therefore, my body.

This gave me my confident attitude back. And nothing, not even insecure bullies, could take that from me. I had something to prove in the 11th grade and I proved it. I was back to normal with my dancing, was given extra roles in the musical Tarzan, and because of this, made amazing friends that loved me unconditionally, with all of my conditions. I was still a chubby girl, but that didn't phase me, just like when I was in fifth grade at that doctor's office. I was dancing and performing the hours of a part time job on top of school, what was I to be worried about? Come back next week to hear all about it!

hormonally yours,

Emma