My first recollection of being being made fun of was in kindergarten. As I was walking up the sidewalk to school a boy came up to me and informed me that my butt wagged back and forth when I walked. He then proceeded to ask me if I wanted a peanut butter and poop sandwich. As a savvy 6 year old, I obviously turned down his generous offer of the sandwich, but no self-respecting 6 year old is gonna let his butt wag. The rest of the way to school I tried my hardest to keep my butt from wagging.

Another traumatic kindergarten experience, but of a different kind, was instigated by a girl. I don’t know if every kindergarten has this type person, I secretly imagine I’m not the only one who experienced this, but this particular girl pretended like she wanted to kiss any and every boy in the class. I was mortified of her. In school she was under the watchful eyes of the teachers, but as soon as we were let out of the confines of the elementary building, I was suddenly vulnerable to the kissing lips of this girl. I don’t recall if she ever succeeded in planting her lips on me, but I doubt I would have forgotten unless I had blacked out from sheer embarrassment.

It was around 4th or 5th grade when I became a bully. I started saying things to certain classmates to get a laugh at the expense of their dignity. The words that I uttered haunt me with regret and deep humiliation to this very day. Words that were carefully chosen to slowly slice a girl’s self-worth to shreds... until it brought her to tears. Words purposefully used to cause a boy to gag on them. Cruelty seemed so “funny” at the time. But underneath it all was a deep insecurity about who I was. I felt awkward and weird in my shape shifting, pimple infested body. I desperately wanted to feel “cool” and I sought to do so by causing others to feel inferior.

I’m a grown adult now, a dad, a husband. I’ve lost 30 pounds, I’m in the best shape that I’ve ever been in, I don’t feel embarrassed to go swimming, and yet I’m still insecure. According to others, my legs are like tree trunks. I also have cankles, or so I’ve been told. My eyes have since verified these claims in the mirror and my mind has latched on to it like an obsession. But even still I compare myself to others. I make judgements about others’ fitness, health, bodies, skills, wealth, clothes... I don’t verbally bully anymore, but my eyes still look for others’ inferiorities so that I can make myself feel inwardly superior. I thought being in shape would cause that to stop, but there’s always someone “better” than me, and there will always be those who are “inferior,” and maybe I will never stop comparing.

One thing that I keep reminding myself of, day after day, is that comparing myself with other things and people is completely and utterly meaningless. I have wasted so many brain waves on caring about what people think instead of just being present and loving others for who they are.