Back in 2014, I was in between jobs and had a lot of time on my hands, I read some books and it sent my brain into overdrive. Below is something I wrote that took me back to some not so fun times in my life, but lessons to learn from:
When I was a kid I had very distinguished auburn coloured hair and fair skin. I was more truer to a ‘ranga’ than the red headed kids of today labelled with that derogatory term. According to my mum and my (late) nana, I was subjected to random kids coming up to me in my pram and pulling my hair and hurting me. Despite their efforts to protect me they couldn’t always be keeping an eye out for a curious child with a knack of hair pulling. I’m guessing these encounters was the beginning of a shyness phase where being apart from my parents or grandparents made me an emotional wreck.
Move on to Grade Prep. 5 years of age and adapting to daily life without a family member close by. Prep teachers, I think, play a super important role in helping kids find confidence within themselves. Rules are slowly put into practice so kids learn manners, restrictions and social behaviour in general. A particular rule that was implemented was kids were told that they could only go to the toilet at recess and lunch times. Being a literal child that’s exactly what I did. Until one day I became the target of a sixth grader’s bullying tirade. My snacks and lunch were his to own and my general appearance was for him to make fun of. Soon I would hate recess and lunch and hide away as much as I could. He loitered near the toilets and I was too petrified to go there. I knew the rule was that you weren’t allowed to go to the toilet during class time so I tried to hold on as best I could. A 5 year old really doesn’t stand a chance at holding on all day when their bladder is full. Needless to say that I subsequently wet my pants. It’s funny how quickly teachers learn about kid’s temperaments so soon. My prep teacher knew something was wrong because it wasn’t like me to not go to the toilet at recess. After an apparent consultation with my parents, they set out to find why I didn’t want to go to school and why I was so upset. I eventually told them. This lead to other kids looking out for me and me having to face a fear worse than the bullying, pointing out the bully face to face with the vice principal.
To this day I have no idea what became of that boy. I believe he was terrorising other kids as well at the time or prior to choosing me.
I would like to think he learned a valuable life lesson on how to be nicer to others and to ask rather than be mean to gain things. I learned that despite the nastiness that there were some kids out there who were willing to take a shy 5 year old only child and help her see the fun in school. He also prepared me for future bullying and degrading moments.
The middle years of primary school were pretty much incident free. I was fast becoming a confident kid within myself, my school work and my sporting activities. In grade 5, when I was 10 years of age I was lucky enough to be given the chance to play my favourite sport in the world Aussie Rules Football. Now, in Australian culture that’s not such a big deal, but it was when you are a girl, because Aussie Rules is meant to be a man’s sport. There was two of us girls who fronted up to the meeting to sign up to play for the blue and white deer park primary school footy team. I’m proud to say we represented the girls well, we were the team’s secret weapons. It didn’t come without a few comments of girls can’t play football, why aren’t you playing netball instead? Ironically I was playing netball also, outside of school!
One particular game, I admit, I was having a really bad game. I got dragged off the field and the coach yelled at me and told me I was playing like a girl. At the time I was so incensed about being told I was, god forbid, playing like a girl. It struck a chord with me at the time because after half time I went back out on the field and played like a girl possessed. I kicked goals, I took marks and I even tackled the opposition ruckman and threw him to the ground and made him cry!
I look back today and I think I was more incensed about being told I was playing football like the weaker of the sexes, when I knew I could play just as well, if not better than any boy in the team. I really disliked being made to be different to the boys.
Around the same time as my football career was blossoming, my girly features were also coming into bloom. What a nightmare time that is for kids, as they are slowly morphing into mini adults. I, for one, was not amused by this sudden change (and I still blame my mother for the birds and the bees talk we had not 6 months prior!) Whilst I was still coming to terms with how to deal with a monthly menstrual cycle and a how to do up a trainee bra – two girls in the same level as me decided that it would be fun to prove their belief that I was indeed sprouting breasts. They would taunt me, pull my shirt back so that the outline of my bra was visible. It was horrific. I remember I ran all the way home and sobbed. I hated the person I was becoming physically and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it!
This episode had a profound affect on my self esteem and my physical appearance. I slouched my shoulders in an attempt to hide my growing chest, inadvertently disrupting the growth pattern on muscles that were growing and causing a slight curvature of my spine. I despised the fact that I was growing up because I wasn’t ready to stop being a kid, and having to deal with being teased about my body changes made the experience all that more terrifying.
Beginning of high school was a culture shock. I went from going to my grandparents every school morning to being responsible for myself. Getting up, getting ready and getting to school on time. I’m proud to say I was never late. Except for that one time in Year 8 when I didn’t hear the first bell because I was in the music room jamming, and got to advisory class 10 seconds late, getting me 10 seconds of detention at lunch time! I was sporting what I thought was a trendy haircut, short and spiky on top and length at the back. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I had the mullet hairdo. Unbeknown to me, I was the subject of cruel remarks behind my back. Eventually my cousin, who was in on the joke told me that my unofficial nickname was dunny brush (Aussie slang for the cleaning utensil toilet brush), referring to my different hairstyle choice. Needless to say the very next day the hairstyle was changed never to be seen again. I was growing my hair for my next hairstyle – the spiral perm – to resemble one Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. (I still occasionally cop a ribbing about that hairstyle to this day!)
Early high school taught me that you had to be up with the fashion at all times. By the time high school finished I couldn’t have cared less about fashion. As long as I was comfortable and could kick the footy around, I was happy with that. I learned there’s no point trying be someone you’re not. I was a girl who loved her football and spending time discussing which footballers were better and who wouldn’t make the grade. I had my fair share of run in with teachers in high school. But I made some great friends also with them. That alone taught me that you can’t please everyone.
When I was 13, I had to deal with something I never thought I would. Because I was having issues with my back, my parents had to take me to a specialist. I had to get x-rays and the like to see why my shoulders were rounding and not straightening as I grew. One day I had the day off from school because I had been to the specialist and mum was treating me for being a good kid. My dad had left to go back to work about 30 minutes prior when the home phone rang. I answered it. There was a man on the other end asking to speak to my mum. It was the senior constable of the Maribyrnong Police Station calling to say that they had her daughter Nicole because she had been caught shoplifting at Highpoint Shopping Centre. My mum was in shock and disbelief. I remember her saying, ‘you can’t possibly have her, she’s right here with me, she answered the phone to you’. He apparently said I thought so and apologised and hung up. It was a very odd situation. Who on earth would pretend to be me!? It turns out it was my best friend from primary school. She’d had gone to a different high school to me and had been caught up in the wrong crowd. She and a friend had skipped school that day and decided to go to Highpoint. She was dared to pinch something and was caught. She was told prior that if she was caught to give a false name and address and when she was confronted by the police, my details were all she could remember. I called her up after she had gotten home, because she had confessed her real details and her parents were livid. I asked her straight out why she did it and she replied with a simple ‘I don’t know’.
I think this was the first time I ever felt betrayed. I was so upset that someone whom I thought was going to be my best friend until the day we died could do such a thing. I didn’t know this person anymore. We didn’t speak for a few years and she was taken back to Turkey to choose a husband. But we are still facebook friends today and even though we are not close anymore, I can’t be mad at her forever because of a silly mistake she made as a naive 13 year old.
Whilst the teens around me were getting into boy bands and Beverly Hills 90210, I was very much into the Canadian teen show Degrassi High. I am forever grateful for that show because it educated me on topics like HIV/AIDS, teenage pregnancy, abortions, abuse, drugs, alcohol and eating disorders. I had an experience with a friend in high school in year 10 – we were about 15/16. She had become bulimic and had confided in me. For about a month she would come to class smelling of vomit, she had freezing cold and shaking hands. I was at a loss how to deal with it, but I knew I had to do something. I confided in another friend and together we went and spoke with the year level coordinator teachers. They arranged for the girl to come to a meeting with us to discuss it. She was mortified. But we had to do something, we didn’t want her to be a victim to the disease. After the meeting her parents were informed and she took some time off school to get better. Soon rumours were running riot that it was all my fault that she wasn’t in school and that I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and not told anyone.
I’m proud to say my friends stuck up for me and put to rest the rumours, saying they would’ve done the exact same thing if they were in my situation. We all graduated from high school and I believe she has kids of her own now. I’m proud to think that I may have changed her life, even if it meant I was unpopular for my decision making.
Growing up in a multicultural neighbourhood, I was accustomed to people having different coloured skin to myself, I knew each family had their own beliefs and customs, but I was never prepared for how many people would comment on the colour of my own skin! I knew that people who had darker skin or who were from certain parts of Europe or Asia were subjected to disgraceful behaviour from kids and adults alike, My high school was nicknamed spot the Aussie, which I found ironic because most of the kids were born in Australia. I got along with most of the kids, I think!
They never commented on my skin colour, it wasn’t until I was out of school and in the big bad world. I have an uncle that liked to point out how pale my legs are, not sure why, his brother is my dad who is a red head and my mother is of Ukrainian decent (the white Russians)! When I moved to Queensland in 2003, if I had $1 for every time I was told – do you know how white you are? – I would have had a fair bit of money saved! It always astounded me that you are not allowed to comment on the colour of a person’s skin that is dark, but it appears to be open season on anyone who has whiter skin tones.
I guess the colour of my skin lead me down the path of the tattoo world. I am the perfect canvass for the amazing tattooists out there to leave their lasting imprint upon my sickly white outer shell. And I love each and every tattoo I have. In fact, I still want more! And no, I will not regret them when I am 80. I will be grateful I made it to 80 and I will show everyone the times I chose to be brave and bold and be myself.
My amazing family and most of my friends know that I have rounded shoulders and a pronounced hunch. It is the result of a twist in my spine and from when I was teased about growing boobs when I was 11. Most people understand that despite the best efforts from my parents and doctors my back is a stubborn thing and is unwilling to change. I would love to have that figure 8 body shape and be able to stand tall, but then again that wouldn’t be me! Even today, I am still told to stand up straight.
Speaking of my body shape, I carry a bit extra insulation than I should be these days, We all gain that extra bit of weight as we get older I know. I have been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes since 2011. Now before most of you jump to the 1 + 1 = diabetes summary, my diabetes is a result of also having Polycystic Ovaries. (Google it). The last symptoms of PCO’s is diabetes. I gain weight in areas I shouldn’t be, I have extra testosterone in my system that makes me grow hair at a rapid rate and in places ladies don’t want them! I hear women whinging about having to get their eyebrows waxed every 6 weeks – start whinging to me when you have to do it weekly like I do, along with your beard and mustache! I have offered to partake in ‘movember’, but I feel I would upset the men who struggle to grow their own facial hair…
My unfortunate mo was so kindly pointed out to me one evening during the middle of service at the restaurant I worked at by a fellow employee. From that day on, I made sure the mo was rarely seen in public again.
These are just a few things I have had to deal with in my 36 years of life. I can’t change them and I don’t resent them, they helped to make me the person I am today. Without these challenges who knows what type of person I may have grown up to be.
I know life throws things your way you don’t understand or don’t want, but you know what? It proves to you that you are stronger than you think and that life knows you’re up for those challenges along the way.
– Nikki 🙂
Niksterisms view of the world 