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Man Boobs

I began developing man boobs in seventh grade.

At first, I didn’t take much notice because I thought they would probably vanish as I entered puberty.

I got bullied all the time at school. Kids would touch my boobs and they would make fun of me. At first I became quite stressed. I didn’t know how to react because I was embarrassed due to my sexuality.

I couldn’t tell my parents because that would further create problems since I am from an eastern background.

I started exercising and going to the gym, and in my ninth grade year, I lost 10 kilograms. Despite all the effort, my boobs became more prominent.

Now I am in college, and I still get bullied by people all the time. They touch my boobs when they want to irritate me. To them, it might seem as all in fun, but it is quite painful for me.

Any suggestions on how to deal with this will be highly appreciated.

Thanks

The Marks Of The Innocents

Sigh …where to begin. All of us bear scars, all of us have seen darkness. I have many stories to tell but I will begin with the first.

I was six years old with long, dark hair, playing in our little yard with no fences. It was a small rental house with a porch screen that screamed at you every time you enter or leave. My childhood was filled with long days happily playing outside, when the Iowa weather permitted, or staging dramatic events with all of my toys, when the cold kept us in.

My parents worked hard for our survival. My father was always traveling and my mother was finishing school and working as well. There were many days I would play for hours on my own. I was content with that though.

We lived next to a man who was blatantly abusive to his wife and daughter. I remember my parents worried expressions whenever we would hear yelling and screaming and my father’s angry glance towards their home when I asked him why there was so much yelling. He had two sons. One was my age or just a bit older, and one was about 15.

Now I was and still am an introverted, sensitive, and accommodating person. In my six year old mind I needed to try and make everyone happy if I could. I enjoyed peace, and I enjoyed obedience. My parents were firm believers in positive and negative reinforcement. I had many friends in my elementary school who were bullies, they sensed I would bend to their whims. I did not feel I could, nor should, stand up for myself. This didn’t make me unhappy, I was a very happy child, I believe I was simply oblivious to the notion that I shouldn’t put up with abuses.

On one fine sunny day my father was home, which was a rare luxury, and he was busy mending the yard with me shadowing and putting around, playing in the sunlight. From across the neighbors’ fence I saw the neighbor boy, not much older than I, stride swiftly to the edge of his chain link fence and beckon me to come closer. Hesitantly I took a small step towards his commanding voice and smile. I remember him being a very popular boy at my school and was flattered that he was paying attention to me.

He grinned a foul-looking grin and cocked his head while explaining something about cool girls and showing their underwear. I nodded, not understanding his intent. He looked me over and told me to pull down my pants. Embarrassed and frightened, I shook my head no. Again he asked, this time with anger in his voice. Startled, and wanting to pacify, I raced over to the trash cans by my house and quickly pulled my pants down and up. I had no understanding of what this meant or why he wanted me to do it. He shook his head at me and said, “No, no all the way and out here where I can see you!”

At this point, my father came around the corner. The boy took off towards his house abruptly and my father seeing me crouched behind a trash can asked if I was ok. I nodded my head, “yes” and dismissed the entire event.

Looking back, I see the intent and evil behind it all and am so grateful events didn’t play out any different. A few weeks later, that same little boy ushered me behind the neighborhood dumpster after school, and had his fifteen year old brother French kiss me, leaving me speechless and embarrassed yet again. My six year old brain didn’t understand that any of this was sexual or wrong, but looking back it leaves me speechless.

It wasn’t until years later that I would tell my parents about these incidents. Even when I moved to Texas and was about to enter into middle school, I had no idea that the kiss was wrong. It took a friend of mine listening to my story and reacting in shock to help me realize what had been done. My innocence as a child was skewed by the choices of an abusive father fostering abusive and perverse behavior in his sons. I am so grateful it never had the chance to become physical, and so glad that we did not live there for longer than we did.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Genesis 50:21 -k

I Don’t Know How To Tell My Daughter

I want to make this short and to the point, as best as I can.

My husband was abused (mentally, emotionally, physically, and sexually) by members of his family. His father sexually abused him as a child, his mother and grandparents covered up the abuse, and outside the sexual abuse incident, they themselves were physically and emotionally abusive. When we met, I didn’t know this, and he’d blocked much of it out, or pushed it down and chose not accept what happened to him. It’s taken years for him to find the strength to shut these people out of his life. It’s also taken years for me to find the strength to deny his mother and her parents access to our daughter.

I don’t want to explain why I even allowed my daughter around them in the first place. Honestly, I have no excuse and I feel like an unworthy mother for not putting my foot down harder when my husband pushed to have them in her life. His family is prominent in his hometown and thought highly of, despite the dark secrets they have hidden in all the corners (the abuse).

A few months ago I had enough, separated from him, and he went to a psychiatrist who echoed what I’d been saying for years: these are not good people and it isn’t safe for him or his daughter to be around them.

Through therapy and medication he’s been able to start coming to grips with the abuse he endured as a child, and he’s starting to break free of the emotional control they’ve had over him. It’s now been about 4 months since our daughter has spoken to or see his family, and it’s our intent that she never sees any of them again.

However …up to this point, she grew up with them in her life on a regular basis. This last month she’s begun asking when she’ll be seeing them again. She liked his grandparents especially (his grandmother was the ringleader in instigating and covering up the abuse). She’s starting to ask at least once a day to go over and visit with them.

She’s never going back over there. I will never put my child or my family in danger like that again.

But, she’s 5 years old. And I honestly don’t know how to explain to her why she won’t be seeing them again. I just don’t. I have an answer for nearly everything for her. But this situation is beyond my scope of understanding. Sometimes I think we should just come right out with it and tell her that they all hurt her Daddy when he was a little boy, but I don’t know if she’ll understand that, and I don’t want to put more on her than she needs right now. (I want to preserve some bit of her innocence, I guess.)

Has anyone else been forced to remove several family members from the lives of their children? Does anyone have any advice about how to talk to my daughter about this situation?

My Story

Hi, I found your web site yesterday and decided it is time to seek friends who understand me and what I went through.

I was bullied in third grade on up to graduation. I talk to friends about it and they tell me I need to forgive the bullies. I have, but the pain resurfaces at times. Sometimes, I cry and just feel so alone and sad.

I had friends until the middle of third grade. One day, we were out on the playground, and all the girls in my class got around me. They pushed me, and I couldn’t get away. After that day, I had no girl friends in my class. The boys were always nice to me. My parents went to the bullies’ houses and talked with the parents, but they all still treated me differently from that day on.

In fifth grade, I went out for basketball where I met a bully on the other team. She hated me. She was there again in sixth grade, still hating me. In seventh grade I was put in her same section because they ran out of room in the higher section. What a sad reason to put someone where it would be scary. No one from my elementary school was in my section. I was alone with the tough kids, and I was scared to death. I found out later, that girl and some others were doing drugs.

In ninth grade, my daddy died, and I was even more alone. One night, I couldn’t breathe. Mom called the ambulance. I was taken to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with allergies and a cold. As I think back, I wonder if it was a panic attack.

In tenth grade, my entire English class was busted for drugs, except me. I never did drugs.

In high school, I finally started making friends, but I had to be careful. I didn’t want to get too close to one friend because she was loose. I didn’t need her reputation adding to my problems. I met another friend in summer school. She had been picked on too, but we didn’t have the same classes.

After I turned 16 and learned to drive, I learned to square dance. I always wanted to learn how. The other people there were older then me, and became parents and grandparents to me. I finally felt accepted.

I identify with Joseph in the Bible. What people meant as harm to him, God turned around for good. God always kept me safe and protected. If it weren’t for the situation I was in, who knows what trouble I could have gotten in. I have forgiven my bullies, but the pain and scars are still there, and will always be there. Sometimes the loneliness gets so great, I just sit and cry.

I have a wonderful hubby, sons, and mom, and I know they don’t understand me. I have been reading about triggers, and how they can take you right back to a bad situation. That is what I have been dealing with for the past two days. I have been crying a lot. After a church meeting last year, I asked to sit down with some ladies. One of them old me it was a private conversation, which triggered me right back to feeling like being left out in school. I ended up leaving that church because it was too painful and brought up too many triggers.

I love people, being around them and talking to them. I went to broadcasting school, and it brought me out of my shyness. Mom says that was priceless. I was once told that I was treated the way I was because the kids thought I was a snob. It made me laugh because it was just the opposite. I wasn’t a snob, just extremely shy with low self-esteem.

Thanks for listening, God bless.