I keep remembering and then forgetting things. I don't have anything that could be classified as an assault, which I know makes me very fortunate. But there definitely were times when I was a sexual target because I was female, and at least one of those times involved boys who were my friends.
And yet I remember these things, and I think, yes, this is part of it, part of rape culture and toxic masculinity, and then I just...forget about them. Because they're classed in my mind as just part of the experience of being female. Of course 14-year-old girls are sexual targets at all times to men of all ages. Shrug. It is what it is.
And then the next horrific story comes around again, and I think how fortunate I am to not have a horrific story of my own, and eventually, I remember again.
Hil, I am so sorry about your experiences in high school. And I am glad you found the Buffista so young. I am glad I found the Buffista too, because without you guys I might not be so educated about things as I am sort of an ostrich about the news!
Zenkitty, it sounds like we had very similar experiences. I am wondering now if the reason my friends and I grew apart in 9th grade, which was basically because I just couldn't stomach (for no reason at the time) going to all the pool parties with everyone's dads seeing me in my bathing suit. But being in sixth grade and hearing dads say how good I looked in a bathing suit is in retrospect sick. And I just don't want to think about it because I have moved on
I can't imagine how much worse this news cycle is for people who have had worse experiences, because it seems like burying them is the only way to live your life as they are so pervasive
All of these stories make me grateful I was kind of invisible and asexual in high school. I went to almost no parties and saw very little.
Hil, I'm so sorry people were so horrible to you.
I'm so sorry that the current news cycle has to bring back painful memories for so many.
Also, kind of grateful that I didn't get breasts until I was 38 and pregnant. My best friend used to call me A- as a nickname. I was the opposite of curvy well into my 30s with something like 32-28-32 as measurements. My mom teased me that I could do yard work topless and no one would notice. (she knew I wasn't sensitive about my boy like shape) It has occured to me that I was spared some of the leering and groping that other friends endured because of my stick figure. Still, I was more than aware of this behavior from my friends experiences, although spared myself until I was past school age.
First world problems: my mother switched cable companies to save approx. one million dollars, but I don't have the new WiFi password, and she's not home. Also apparently we're sharing a dvr now? Not sure how I feel about that.
As ever, posting makes things happen: she got home and gave me the password. Phew.
Good, because no WiFi seems unthinkable
I was literally the "brick house" at 36 24 36 in 6th grade. I measure people for a living and no one now has those proportions because they work their ab muscles so their waist measurements are larger.
Because they're classed in my mind as just part of the experience of being female.
Right? It's the background radiation of our lives.
Oh, lord, my tits showed up early and boisterously in middle school. My mother made a great worried fuss over this, which did nothing for my comfort about them. Smocks were in fashion, so she made me wear those, and she sewed closed the button-down section at the bustline to prevent gapping. Clothes my size were not sized for my "attributes". Instead of downplaying things, these adjustments were commented on. "Are you pregnant? You're dressed like you're pregnant." My mother monitored my clothing as long as she could to downplay what was going on. When I hit college and finally realized that my bustline wasn't something to be ashamed of, I bought a wonderful black velour sweater that actually fit and had a V neckline. Mother nearly broke into tears and asked why I'd want to wear something like that. (In her defense, her father was an abusive alcholic who accused her of some very nasty things--and that's what she'd admit to. I don't want to think of what else happened, but her mother left him back in the Depression.)
I shall not go into the numerous incidents of lewd commentary as I walked around in the world. I suspect it's one reason I let myself get fat, so the difference in measurements went away.
