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Chapter 4

1979

Genetics Are Amazing, but Sometimes They’re Just Not Fair

Gwen was eight years old when she began to think of herself as ugly. Like most young kids, she never really thought about her appearance. Up until then, she’d had a pretty normal childhood. She always had a few friends in school and day care. Her parents never really kept her involved by signing her up for activities, and they never arranged playdates, so those were her only two opportunities to be around other kids. But school and day care were sufficient, and thinking back, Gwen remembered those years fondly.

The bullying and teasing began in the third grade. The kids started calling her “fatty,” “gerbil eyes Gwen,” “tunnel nostrils,” and “ape face.” Even the girls who had previously been her friends joined in. One boy in their class, Paulie, had started it all that year. Gwen assumed it was because she was smart and he was stupid that he picked her out of the class as his target. As usually happened with kids that age, the “bad” kid was seen as “cool,” and the rest of the herd followed his lead.

Several months into the school year, Gwen broke down over dinner and told her parents what was happening.

“Every day, they call me names. Horrible names. They make fun of my clothes. They make fun of my hair. They make fun of how I walk. Everything.” Gwen sobbed. “Paulie walks by my desk just to knock stuff off it, and then they all laugh. I hate it there! The teacher doesn’t help. She pretends not to notice, but I know she sees it. She hates me too. Please don’t make me go back.” Gwen looked at her parents with tears in her eyes. “Why do they hate me?”

“They don’t hate you, Gueneviere. The kids are just jealous of you because you’re so smart.”

“What about the teacher? Is she jealous too?” Gwen asked, rolling her eyes.

“Of course not. I’m sure she is not aware of what’s happening,” answered her mother.

Gwen knew her mother was wrong but didn’t respond. She put her head in her hands and listened as her parents both talked.

“Ignore them, Gwen. You’re smarter than they are. They’re just jealous. Focus on your studies. You don’t need them.

These were all true but of little comfort to an eight-year-old. What she wanted to hear was that the things the kids were saying about her were not true, and that was the one thing her parents didn’t say. She also wanted them to make it stop, but they didn’t.

“You’re going to make me go back, aren’t you?” Gwen asked her parents.

Her parents looked at each other, and her dad finally answered, “You have to go to school, Gwen.”

Gwen nodded, knowing this would be their response. Her parents continued to talk, telling her that things would be okay and that they loved her, but as far as Gwen was concerned, the conversation was over. Gwen finished her dinner as they spoke, asked to be excused, and then went to her room for the rest of the evening.

That night, Gwen got up from bed to use the bathroom. As she walked past her parents’ room, she heard them discussing her.

“There’s not much we can do about the way she looks,” her mother was saying. “She got the worst of both of us. Genetics are amazing. We both know that. But sometimes, they’re just not fair.”

Her dad replied, “Well, it’s not going to get any better for her, I’m afraid. She’s in for a lot of years of this nonsense. She’ll need to learn how to deal with it. Maybe when she gets older, we can get her nose fixed for her. We’ll need to keep an eye on her weight too.” He stopped for a minute, and Gwen heard her mom mumble something but couldn’t make out the words. Her dad continued, “Look, neither of us was ever going to win any beauty contests either, but we made out okay, right? She will too.”

Gwen closed the bathroom door as quietly as she could, barely breathing, and, for the first time in her life that she could remember, examined herself closely in the mirror. Her eyes were small like a gerbil’s. Her nostrils were big like tunnels. Her hair was a mess. Tears were running over her fat cheeks. She was fat.

Gwen realized that night that she was ugly. Even her parents thought so. She knew the word, knew what it meant, but had never thought of it in terms of herself. She lay awake all night worrying about where to go from here. Using her eight-year-old brain to decide what to do with this news, how to handle being ugly on a day-to-day basis, and how to protect herself, she decided she would handle it head-on. She decided at the age of eight that ugly people could not trust anyone but themselves. She might be ugly, but she wasn’t going to be a target. She wasn’t going to be bullied. The teachers wouldn’t stop it, and her parents wouldn’t stop it, but she would.

The next day in school, during recess, Paulie started again. As Gwen sat on the swings by herself, he yelled to her, “Hey, gerbil eyes! Who punched you in the face and flattened your nose?” He started laughing, and so did the kids around him. Today, Gwen was ready. She quietly but quickly hopped off the swing and walked right toward him. She could see the look of uncertainty in his face as she approached, and that gave her confidence. She could feel the surprise of the other kids but kept her eyes on Paulie. She walked right up to him, hauled off, and punched him squarely on the nose. He dropped to the ground crying, blood spouting from his nose. “I don’t know,” said Gwen, bending down so he could see her face. “But we all know who punched you.” She stood and looked at the kids who had formed a circle around them. “Don’t we?”

Gwen spent the rest of that afternoon in the principal’s office. Her explanations of why she punched Paulie seemed to be ignored. Her parents were called in for a conference and punished her when they got home. But it was worth it. Nothing they did removed the satisfaction she felt that day for having bested her tormentor.

Paulie tried to get back at her over the next few weeks, but she was just too smart for him. His first goal was to regain the upper hand by proving his physical superiority. At recess a few days later, he started taunting her again but was ready this time when she came toward him. When she got within reach, her grabbed her to throw her to the ground, but he wasn’t ready for her knee coming up full force into his groin. Again, Paulie was on the ground crying as Gwen stood over him. “What’s wrong, Paulie boy? Got your butt kicked by a girl again?” She looked around at the kids staring, jaws dropped at the scene before them, and she enjoyed it. She tried to look each one of them in the eye, but none would meet her gaze. “Wussies,” she mumbled as she squared her shoulders and walked away.

Gwen soon found she could beat her foes with words as well. The final straw, the confrontation that finally made Paulie throw in the towel, happened a few months later. Gwen had on a shirt that day that was just a bit too small for her and really accentuated her belly hanging over her pants.

As soon as they were outside that day and out of the teacher’s hearing, he started. “Look at fatty Gwen! You look like you’re having a baby!”

Gwen turned on him. “Well, I may look like I’m having a baby, but you are a baby! You still wet your pants. At least I don’t come to school smelling like piss every day.” She turned and walked away.

At first, there was dead silence as she walked away, but then she heard laughter, and this time, the laughter was directed at Paulie.

The kids now gravitated toward Gwen. She was the “cool” kid now, but she knew she couldn’t trust them. She quickly rejected any friendly advances from the other kids. She would scare them away with an insult or just a mean look. She would never let them hurt her again.

Eventually, they all left her alone. Entirely.