I am a 'freak'. I have long straight hair. It's usually reddish brown. I wear casual clothes, white socks, and steel toed running shoes. I have dimples. I wear glasses. I work in a factory, and I'm an English major. I'm well spoken, polite, and I smile all the time. I am your everyday girl next door. I have no piercings on my face, I don't have a tattoo on my forehead. I don't even have my ears pierced. How 'freaky' is that?
At A Glance Author hailshimmer Contact [email protected] When N/A I do, however, have some interesting friends. Some with tattoos all over their bodies, hundreds of piercings, little and big balls of Teflon popping up through their skin. Some who like to be hooked and hung. Some who wear outrageous clothing, and 'experiment' with their hair. Some very interesting people.
I've never felt like I "don't belong" with these people. Even though I'm a 'freak', at least these interesting friends know that I have an array of tattoos, discreetly placed and close to my heart. They know that I've had my tongue pierced four times, and that I've tried out a couple facial piercings. They know that I have tremendous respect for them, my interesting friends, and that underneath my 'freakishly' good natured appearance, I'm really not a 'freak'. I know that I'm not a freak. I know that I'm soon going to have a steel bar underneath my wrist with little (big!) pegs attached. I know that I like to make pictures on my body with a little pin-pricker sort of thing...(no worries, my friend, autoclaved at the dentist [long story:)]). So while I am a 'freak' on the outside, I know where my heart lies.
The purpose of this 'editorial', I suppose, is to address an issue that I have with other 'freaks'. I have read many articles written by people who are pierced, or otherwise modified, that are about how 'freaks' treat them, i.e. boy with 37 piercings walks into a store, and a 'freak' with khakis and a bowl cut stares and stares until the boy notices. 'Freak' promptly exits the store, runs to his car and locks the doors. I cannot honestly say that I understand that feeling. When I walk into a store, all the other 'freaks' come running to assist me, commenting on my cute hair clip and asking me where I go to school. I do know a different feeling, though.
About six years ago, I was out with about five guys, all with long black hair, black clothes and piercings. We went to a park, and were walking around enjoying nature. An older couple was out walking their dog. As the couple walked by, the woman clutched her purse and her husbands arm, and whispered. Moments later, the man came up to me, grabbed my arm and asked if I needed help, do I want them to call the police? Me, being the naive youth, didn't quite understand until I looked around at my friends, looked down at myself and realized that the whole situation did sort of look like I was the virgin being prepared for sacrifice. I assured the couple that I was fine, thanked them for their concern, and we all went on our ways, but that incident was a sort of prelude to the rest of my life. Eventually it became second nature, and I never even noticed it. Until a few nights ago.
I went out with a friend of mine. We went to play pool. My friend is interesting. He's got more holes in his face than hairs on his head, he's got ornate tattoos on much of his body. He's got a bunch of big balls implanted in his forearms, and he was wearing a shirt that said something about cutting up pussy (?). This guy is fantastic, and I love him with all of my heart. I know he's used to people coming up to him, gawking at him, and wondering "What was he thinking?". Even I'm used to it, and I get a kick out of it...centre of attention by association!
I don't know what made me notice people that night. Maybe I was drunk, maybe not as drunk as usual, I can't quite be sure, but I became very aware of people's stares that night. Yes, there were a lot of people staring at him, and at least one waitress made a comment about his implants, but those weren't the stares that I noticed. It was the people staring at me. The 'freak' in the jeans and sweater, with glasses and straight hair. They were staring at me, wondering what the hell I was doing there, with him. I can't be sure what they were thinking, maybe they couldn't understand why a guy like that would be friends with a girl like me, or maybe why a girl like me would be friends with a guy like that. Either way, it was absolutely uncool.
It was uncool because these people made me feel self-conscious. I don't look at them, I don't judge them, and I don't give a shit who they're with. What the hell gives them the right to judge me?
Perhaps this isn't the best forum to post this. Never in my life have I been made to feel self-conscious by anyone who is not a 'freak'. The people who will read this, from the girl with some discreet tattoos and a fascination with modifications, to the guy with 37 piercings in his face alone, have always put me at ease, made me feel welcome. I guess for lack of a better closing, I will thank you all for giving me this forum to express myself, and to give me the confidence to explore myself. And for anyone out there who is like me, fuck the 'freaks', at least you know who you are.