The series continues...
Back in the Day...
I used to get teased quite a bit about the size of my forehead. Some of my classmates in middle school would tell me that I had a "Tyra Banks Forehead" (or fivehead, as they sometimes said). I could not tolerate Tyra Banks back in the 90s. I mean, I think she's God-awful now, but I really despised her back in the day. It was probably the result of being told that I had a massive cranium, just like her, the fact that she couldn't act her way out of a paper bag, and the horrible hair weaves she would wear (I still maintain my theory that her forehead is so ginormous because of all the weaves she's worn over the years), all wrapped up into one.
When you have a larger-than-life forehead, people always want to touch it --- at least they do that to me (is that standard? must look into this...). It's like they think that it will give them some sort of magical powers, or that they can make a wish off of your forehead, or SOMETHING. The whole thing was always bizarre to me.
You see, big foreheads run in my family. I never realized that I had a big forehead until I got teased at school. It's just like how little kids don't know anything about race until you tell them about it. I didn't know my forehead wasn't perceived as normal because nobody had ever drawn attention to it.
Needless to say, the mean kids at my middle school really let me have it, and informed me that my forehead was gargantuan on a fairly regular basis. Sometimes, they didn't even call me my full name. They just called me "Forehead." How endearing.... (enter sarcastic smiley here)...
On the outside, I appeared to be a major wimp. I had this squeaky voice, I was all scrawny, and as I explained in the last post on this topic, I had no fashion sense whatsoever --- something crucial to the middle school existence. But don't get it twisted. (And also don't ask why I keep using slang today.) My dad and brother taught me how to fight like a boy. Someone should have told Jason Brown* that when were on the bus that one day in 7th grade...
Anyone who ever rode the bus as a middle schooler knows the horrors of the afternoon bus ride. Ridiculous things happen when you put a bunch of rowdy pubescent tweens on a bus together for 15 minutes. Kids expose themselves, pick fights, moon passerby, and throw miscellaneous objects.
One day, Jason Brown decided that it was time to pick on me to show off to all of his friends his joning skills. This was not uncommon in my suburban Maryland community. Unfortunately, I was the subject of this joning exercise, and the audience was a cruel one.
Jason was seated in front of me. He turned around, kneeling on his seat, facing me, and began to crack jokes about the size of my forehead. Thanks to instigation from the peanut gallery, the harassment worsened. He began calling me "Forehead" and proceeded to smack me in the forehead. How rude!"You'd better stop it!" I yelled at him. Of course this caused him to burst out in laughter.
"Or what?"Jason asked sardonically.
"Or else," I responded. (I don't even think that I was convinced this was a viable threat.)
Jason continued smacking me on the forehead and mocking me until we reached my bus stop. I remember feeling extremely angered -- a feeling that is rare to me even today (unless I'm watching a State of the Union Address by Dubya or listening to HRC "misremember" things). I knew that something was going to have to be done to Jason the next time he made fun of me in front of all of the kids I grew up with -- I just didn't know what I was going to do...**********************************************
The next day, on the way home, Jason and the instigators started on me again.
"Forehead! Forehead!" chuckled Jason as he repeatedly smacked me in the forehead.
"Stop it!" I yelled angrily, but he kept on. All of a sudden, I had an outer-body experience. I stood up, felt overcome with rage, looked at him, knew his mouth was moving, but heard nothing. I cocked my arm back, and socked him right in the lip. Somehow, I knew that my stop was approaching, so I grabbed my things, walked to the front of the bus, the doors opened, and I got out right at my stop. Needless to say, Jason Brown never teased me again. That day, everyone laughed at him for getting beaten up by a girl. Apparently, with that one forceful blow, I was able to maim him. I busted his lip, as well as his dignity.
***I don't want anyone to think that I'm condoning violence. But while I'm not condoning violence, I'm also not condoning the silent treatment or "pretend they're not there" BS either. Sometimes you gotta put your foot down and take names...***
Now I embrace my forehead. My big, beautiful, yellow forehead is just a small part of who I am. And that is precisely why I named my blog "Big Yellow Forehead."
If your eyes are the windows to your soul, then my forehead must be the garage.
*fictional name used to spare the dignity of this man
4 comments:
What a wonderful empowering story. I have had violent fantasies all my life like, what would I do if.... insert you worst possible fear of contact with someone inclined to hurt you and then imagine the worst possible horrifyingly savage thing you could do to take them out... I'm just that kind of woman. Comes from too many years of being treated like shit by men who professed to love me.
I love the self revelatory writing the best. But it's all I've ever been capable of. Oh, and the odd political rant.
The Rules Committee Ruled giving Hillary less than she wanted from Florida and Michigan, and more than she deserved. Harold Ickes had a fit. It was disgusting. But Hillary is now toast. So much for party unity--Ickes claims she authorized him to take it to the nominating committee if she didn't get her way. So much for party unity. I'm hoping the Supers give her a stern talking to. I heard Mike Taibe saying she's threatening to run as an independent. That her followers will never desert her. Her supporters were a raising hell in the hall. Rude to everyone. The supporters she bussed in just for the purpose. Aaakkk!
Right on!
You are reminding me so much of my youth (which I can now look back on fondly despite it being horrific at the time).
Right down to the surreal, Felini-esque middle school bus experience.
I had a similarly defining moment in 6th grade that stopped the teasing dead in its tracks.
And, for the record...
Your forehead? Not so big.
What you are really writing here is autobiography. Have I told you that already? I hope you keep it up. You may have noticed my listings of my other sites. I'd really lie to encourage you to look at the novel "Maggy." It's written from the child's POV--yes the child grows up and old in this story, but it's me. My story--and though my experiences are worlds apart from yours, generationally, certainly. I was probably much more alienated from my peers then you when I was the age of the young you in these two stories. These are stand alone short stories. And since so much of youth and adolescence is pretty universally difficult, we all connect with it's honest revelation in good stories or novels. I haven't written a lot of short stories about this adolescent period, it is presented chapter by chapter in the novel or memoir.
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