Is it a sin to be different? I've never been the normal type of kid. When I was a toddler the Barbie dolls that were given to me I played with, but not in the normal way that most parents would want their children too. I hung my dolls from my bedpost. I used to sit in my room and poke myself with sharp objects, because I liked the feeling. My parents were concerned about it, but didn't give it to much of a thought; after all, I was only a little kid. As I got older though, my fascination in these sorts of different things grew. I got really sucked in with the idea of piercing myself. I realized while I was in junior high that I could indulge myself in the things I liked, and still fit in. Because it seemed a cool thing to be pierced. So I went about it. My ear lobe is pierced three times on each ear, my navel twice, and my lip as a result of that (*this is not a good idea. DO NOT pierce yourself, it's potentially dangerous and is just plain stupid). I also had a few pr ofessional piercings, my tongue, tragus, and two on my nape. I have five tattoos. No one really knew about it except for me because I got a large portion of them on the times I visited Europe. My parents on the other hand never noticed anything about me so it was no concern that they'd see it. Throughout this young, and fairly na�ve stage of my life I was attending a private school. No one new I had these differences; the visible piercings I took out while I attended school and my uniform covered all five of my tattoos. So I presented the image of a fairly decent child, and considered myself to be one as well. Then, I transferred to a public school my junior year. I came to the sudden realization that I wasn't like the other kids, when I tried to join the cheerleading squad, thinking I'd make some friends.
At A Glance Author anonymous Contact [email protected] When N/A I went to the first tryout in my older sister's cheerleading uniform; my sister was the epitome of perfection. I felt pretty good about it, until I started. In fact I remember there was an exact moment when I turned around and looked at the head cheerleader's face and saw something was wrong. I didn't think I had done badly. She was staring intently at my right arm, where I housed two of my tattoos, and numerous results of self mutilation. I had lived a very sheltered life, and not realized that this was not socially acceptable. I didn't really know how to react; I made the mistake of thinking she wanted to see them. So I showed her, happy that someone was interested. Instead she gave me a disgusted look and said my turn was over.
Another incident I vividly recall was at a church barbeque a few months before my 18th birthday. It was during June, and while most times I cover myself, it was hotter than hell out and so I was wearing shorts and a t shirt. It was clear a lot of people were for the first time noticing my modifications, and I tried to ignore their stares. The ones who noticed it the most though were a group of extraordinarily obvious women who shared a bible study. One approached me. The pastor's sister, also the one housing the barbeque. She smiled at me as she walked towards me, and I'm sure it was because other people saw her walking to me as well. I've talked to her plenty of times before, and I was actually pleased she was approaching me this time because I wanted to talk to someone about it. In all the times before she'd greeted me with a warm hug, but today she simply pointed to the door and had me walk inside. I went inside with her. She asked me to go to the store with her and pick up some more hamburger buns. As soon as we were in the car, her hand flew up and before I had time to think she slapped me across the face. I didn't respond, because it didn't bother me too much, it only made me think the less of her. But despite that, it still hurt to hear her words, especially because in my younger years she had been a role model for me. She told me I was far out of line, I had become an "ungodly" child, and even if I was nearly an adult now it was no excuse for this sort of behavior. She was pretty straightforward and blunt about it. I was told that what I was doing was hideous, ugly, and disgusting that I could so horribly mutilate the good body that "the lord" had given me. I couldn't believe that she, someone I had thought was one of the nicest people in the world, was railing me like this. She tore me up worse than anyone else had ever even attempted to. We were still in the car at this point, and had driven to the grocery store which was a few miles from her home. She reached over, opened the door on the passenger sid e, gave me a harsh look and told me to get out and that I was no longer welcome in her home.
I've thought a lot about things since then both those incidents, and many more that happened throughout those last two years of high school when I became much more open about myself. They still hurt me deeply, things I'll remember for the rest of my life, but I saw that I am different, and I can accept that. I also see that now that I'm out of high school, there are so many other people in the world that are like me, and beyond, and I have a deep admiration for the people that have the confidence to carry themselves so beautifully in a world that's so unaccepting.