In 7th grade, I had a friend ask the boy I liked if he would be interested in being my boyfriend (because of course). His reply was that he couldn’t imagine kissing a girl with one arm.
I still remember that.
To be fair, that boyfriend said a lot over the years that stuck with me, slash scarred me for life, and that was a pretty stupid thing to say. He ended up writing an apology note a few days later and stuck it in my locker. My memory is that his mom made him do it, but I might have made that up. Anyway, we did end up in a relationship for a while. And as it bounced back and forth in complicated ways over the next seven years, I lived through plenty of other experiences to remember, but that phrase is nonetheless seared into my mind.
Is this what it feels like when kids are called fat in middle school and never really get over it? Even if it was only said once? It means nothing. Seriously, let’s all count the stupid things middle school boys say.
So, moving on, I think about how my arm plays a part in my romantic life today. I was definitely in the midst of the hookup culture through college and after—go to a bar, find someone and go home with them. I don’t know if I’m the only one of my friends who never did that. Sort of because of my arm.
I feel confident, and am happy with who I am, the way I look. But—and maybe this harkens back to what he said in 7th grade—in college I could never get the image out of my head of a guy coming home the morning after being out, saying to his friends, “I hooked up with this girl with one arm.” That would give him too much power. Way too much power. Plus I was afraid I wouldn’t be shielded by the veil of anonymity that most other girls have after one-night stands. I was the only one on campus with one arm, so if he said that to his friends, they might see me someday, and know.
This is the point where I’m now thinking, “But God, who cares?” And I’m right. But I cared back then. Everyone struggles with identity in college, and I just wasn’t up for doing that while also giving people extra reasons to talk about me. Fortunately, it’s not like I really wanted to pick guys up at bars. So I wasn’t denying myself anything. It’s not like that.
Or did I tell myself that to make myself feel better, because really I was just scared? Maybe because of my arm, because I was embarrassed by it, but maybe also just because… I was scared, like everyone else (of rejection, of new things). My arm would undoubtedly be a good crutch, if that were the case.
I still believe that I truly had no interest in the hookup culture. But it does get me wondering… How much of what I do is because of what people say? Or what I even only think they will say?
xo,julieo
I still remember that.
To be fair, that boyfriend said a lot over the years that stuck with me, slash scarred me for life, and that was a pretty stupid thing to say. He ended up writing an apology note a few days later and stuck it in my locker. My memory is that his mom made him do it, but I might have made that up. Anyway, we did end up in a relationship for a while. And as it bounced back and forth in complicated ways over the next seven years, I lived through plenty of other experiences to remember, but that phrase is nonetheless seared into my mind.
Is this what it feels like when kids are called fat in middle school and never really get over it? Even if it was only said once? It means nothing. Seriously, let’s all count the stupid things middle school boys say.
So, moving on, I think about how my arm plays a part in my romantic life today. I was definitely in the midst of the hookup culture through college and after—go to a bar, find someone and go home with them. I don’t know if I’m the only one of my friends who never did that. Sort of because of my arm.
I feel confident, and am happy with who I am, the way I look. But—and maybe this harkens back to what he said in 7th grade—in college I could never get the image out of my head of a guy coming home the morning after being out, saying to his friends, “I hooked up with this girl with one arm.” That would give him too much power. Way too much power. Plus I was afraid I wouldn’t be shielded by the veil of anonymity that most other girls have after one-night stands. I was the only one on campus with one arm, so if he said that to his friends, they might see me someday, and know.
This is the point where I’m now thinking, “But God, who cares?” And I’m right. But I cared back then. Everyone struggles with identity in college, and I just wasn’t up for doing that while also giving people extra reasons to talk about me. Fortunately, it’s not like I really wanted to pick guys up at bars. So I wasn’t denying myself anything. It’s not like that.
Or did I tell myself that to make myself feel better, because really I was just scared? Maybe because of my arm, because I was embarrassed by it, but maybe also just because… I was scared, like everyone else (of rejection, of new things). My arm would undoubtedly be a good crutch, if that were the case.
I still believe that I truly had no interest in the hookup culture. But it does get me wondering… How much of what I do is because of what people say? Or what I even only think they will say?
xo,julieo