The most humiliating moment for me
in high school is a big secret yet not a secret at all. It wasn’t any of the
moments everyone turned to look at me as my phone went off loudly in class. It
wasn’t one of the times I got a really bad grade on a test everyone else did
perfectly on (noting that I'm usually a VERY good student) (not to mention I was the one tutoring them and I only misread the problem... I digress). It wasn’t the time I threw up by the bus stops (though, that would have been first by a long shot before). It
was the quiet little movement of buttoning one little button.
It was one of those days I walked
out of my house with my back straight and had a smile on my face. It was one of
those days I planned my outfit out the night before so it was just right. It
was one of those days I skipped over to flirt with my boyfriend as soon as I
got to school. It was one of those days, until he started speaking, that is. That’s inappropriate. What?
Inappropriate? My brown top unbuttoned to show my cute lacy pink little bra
which just looked like an undershirt? It
was covering me up more than just leaving the shirt unbuttoned, I thought, I
usually wear this with a different undershirt, why does it matter?
His reasoning was that the bright
colors catch the eyes of guys. Everything about it made me furious; I couldn’t
even begin to explain the number of ways in which he was wrong. He was right,
of course, in the fact that bright colors grab attention; he was wrong, however, in thinking he could tell me what I could wear. I was aware of the
level of modesty I felt comfortable with, and it’s amazing to think he believed
that being together a year gave him a say in that. He repeatedly told me to
button my shirt up, and I refused. I didn’t tell him that I had felt happy with
my outfit, that it made me feel confident and good to mix things up for once. I
tried to stand my ground and he got angry. He refused to listen to me and
continued to break down any confidence I’d built up.
Is
this inappropriate? I had asked my friends as we reached them. He seemed
ready to smack me in his burst of anger; he grabbed my phone and quickly turned
all of his attention on it, as if looking at me would be a test of his temper. No, not at all. That’s really cute actually.
A chorus of kind voices filled my ears before his raised voice came up from
behind me. I knew you would do this. What?
What did it matter if I got an outside opinion? I knew you would ask them. You don’t care what I think. I gave up; even keeping my quiet, detached attitude his voice was still raised and a hush
had come over my friends. I turned to them as though nothing had happened, maintaining a pleasant, detached smile as I
pretended to focus on them while watching him from the corner of my eye.
After making another attempt at
calming him down only to receive another harsh reply I ducked my head. I stared
at the inappropriate pink lace for just a second and returned to pretending to
listen to my friends. Before turning to him again I did what I had been so
stubbornly opposing. With my friends’ voices in the background I looked away
and tried to disappear as my hands reached up and pulled together the button to
hide away my bright pink lace. I looked to him again and he was still angry,
not even pausing to notice I’d fixed the problem. I waited quietly for him to
look over and smile, wrapping his arm around me. I leaned against him with sad
eyes and an empty heart. It was one of those days I walked around dead.
This is just one of those signs I didn't listen to, and I wish I would have. Had any friend of mine told me a story like this I would have told them to run and get out of that relationship as soon as possible. And I knew that then. But I was not my friends and that seemed to make me matter less. That's not true though, I matter just as much as anyone else. And I'm never putting up with that again.
