Lipstick chronicles blog and bullies

One of my high school gal pals recommended the lipstick chronicles blog. I just checked it out and really like it. So thanks to Carlie I now have one more website on which to "waste time." Or as I prefer, another portal to things unknown, unsaid, and unknown to be desirable before this experience. Well it's my leisure retirement time and I could be doing lots worse....hey, that's the same argument I use with Jerry about shopping---"I could be dong worse things...I could be hanging out on street corners, bars, whatever."

J.B.Stanley writes on the lipstick chronicles blog that she was pondering how to develop a character for her writing and was hanging out in Barnes and Noble. She asked the following question,

"Can you think back to high school or junior high and tell me if there was someone who was especially mean to you?" I plowed on. "A bully?"

Slightly suspicious, she nodded. "Yeah, I knew someone like that. Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I’ve already based characters on people who have wronged me, my third cousins, or my cat. At the moment, I’m fresh out of villains. But you knew someone who had an extra supply of cruelty?"

She nodded immediately. "In high school. His name was Russ."

Russ? My antagonist had a first name. I’d make up his last name later. "What did he look like?"

"He was your average blue-eyed blond, but he was too mean to be cute. He only smiled when he thought he was hurting someone." She paused in the middle of straightening a row of Seventeen magazines. "His face was always bunched up in a smirk. Like a little frog."

I could picture him already, but as a grown man in his mid-twenties. "What kind of things did he tease you about?"

The bookseller’s face clouded over. I could see that Russ’s words still haunted her and she was in her mid-forties. "He told me that no one would ever ask me out. He said that I looked like a fat boy. He called me fat boy all the time. I hated him." She gazed out the window and then turned back to me. "You know what? I still hate him."

I find this fascinating because lately with our reconnection I've been thinking back on Ken Hi days. Even thinking back past that to Ridge Ave Jr. Hi times. Why stop there, what about 3rd Ward elementary school? Maybe my memories have dimmed so much that they have black holes but I really cannot think of any bully or anyone who was that mean to me during my school days. I don't know, maybe we were nicer then. Or maybe I just had such self esteem and confidence that I didn't attract bullies? Or maybe I've just been fortunate. I think if I'd had someone taunting me as described above, I'd have called him/her something worse. Maybe I was too naive to recognize an insult and merely laughed at a fool who tried? Or maybe with the abuse that happened at home, nothing else phased me.

I remember being on the stage in our high school assembly--maybe running for some class office. Anyway I remember tripping and flopping. Of course everyone laughed and I know my face must have been red. But I laughed too. Of course I was embarrassed--what teenage girl wouldn't have been in the 60's. But something deep inside carried me over that and just let me laugh too. Maybe this is a trait that has served me well in life.

Now don't think for a moment that it's been an ice cream sundae existence. Yet I have been able to shrug off many things by laughter. I know it's good for the body, soul, spirit. It must disarm an insult.

The other day I was picking up some alterations and yakking with the seamstress when an attractive, well groomed, well put together, poised elderly lady came in with a garment for Pat to mend. She began to talk with us as we were laughing about something. She shared that her husband was just getting on her last nerves. she said,"He was a major in the Army and he still expects every one to hop to it and salute him. It's just killing me, I had a stroke last year." She seemed so sad and shaken. Well Pat started to laugh and replied, "Why don't you do just that but make fun of him? Laugh at him." You know laughter is the best medicine. I commented further that the only salute he'd get from me would be a one finger one! She thought about this and then got a gleam in her eye, "you know you girls might just have the answer..."

I left right after that and there outside sat her husband in their car. He rolled down his window and asked me' "Is my wife in there? " I sensed his demanding demeanor was not a casual inquiry, so I decided to have my fun there with the Major and replied, "Why how would I know? Who is your wife? I mean I don't even know who you are let alone your wife." He bristled and described her. I laughed at him and said, "Oh yes she is. And you must be the Major." To this he swelled up (aha I spotted the recognition he craves....) then demanded , "well what's taking so long?" There was much I could have said including that we were assuaging the poor gal about him, but my better judgement prevailed. After all she has to live with him I don't. So I merely said, "Well I was there first and so she had to wait her turn. If I had only known that you were out here waiting and in a hurry for sure I'd have let her go before me." I walked across to my car grinning. I had to get away before the devil on my left shoulder made me say more. I fight that devil all the time, sometimes he wins. In the car I really chuckled, "what an arrogant jerk." Pity his wife who despite wearing beautiful diamond and silver jewelry was burdened with an insufferable windbag. Ah well, she has likely tolerated this for many many years.

I called Pat, the seamstress after I got home to share the episode of the Major. she got a good chuckle.

Well bullies and me don't mix. Maybe they never have. Maybe I'm immune.