Cruel nicknames are a subject that really resonated with me.

I have tons of stories of the abuse from family, children from school and their parents, the general public and people who I used to think of as friends. It was enough to put me into therapy. From my classmates at school throwing things at me (rocks, spit balls), calling me names and destroying everything I brought to school, even cutting off one of my ponytails and then there was the day I was pushed in front of a moving bus by older classmates...... to rude cat calls on the street from men who didn't even know me... to my family's constant reminders what a disappointment I was (and still am to a certain degree).... the men who though early puberty was cute and sexy.....and all the people who could have helped me but didn't - but I digress (as usual!)

When I was in junior high school, there was an English comedy on TV called "On the Buses" (some of you might remember it). One of the main characters was an overweight, dowdy, shy, eternally-single woman called "Olive". That became my nickname when I was 13 (size 16 and ~ 200#) in grade 8. I was voted most likely to commit suicide by my class mates that year. The school I went to was all jocks and brains - I was the smart-but-fat girl the teachers loved and the kids despised.

I left that school the following year and didn't see anyone from there for about 6 years. I was in a local shop where I found one of my worst tormenters. He addressed me as "Olive". I was 19 (size 12 and ~ 175#)! My then-DH wasn't impressed and offered to teach this moron a lesson. I did it instead: I got him fired. I saw this jerk a few years ago (I'm now 38) and guess what he called me?

I write all of this to illustrate that NONE of it stopped me from becoming who I am now. I had the lowest self esteem in the universe, but I clawed my way back.

I was humiliated, abused, beaten and mercilessly teased. But I'm still here. That means I won.

The best revenge is living well.

Julie