I spent last weekend in my home town, visiting my mother. Walking down the High Street on Saturday afternoon, I saw a girl on the other side of the road who went to the same school as me.
She didn't spot me, for which I was glad as we were never friends. Truth be told, I was rather horrible to her at school. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to say I bullied her - I never threatened, or physically attacked her - but it would be fair to say that I made her life uncomfortable. Barging into her if we passed in the corridor, sneering, calling her names - that was the sort of thing that I did. It worried her enough that she reported me to the headmistress.
Why? It's difficult to say as there wasn't a specific incident or reason that caused me to dislike her so much, I just did. If pushed I'd have to say it was the way she walked and carried herself. Lookswise she was verging on pretty but there was something about her demeanour that implied she thought that she was much more than that. She loved herself and I hated her for it. I guess mine was a fairly typical reaction for a self-conscious, overweight 14 year old. It was mean-spirited of me and said more about me than it did about her though and for years I felt ashamed of my behaviour.
But when I saw her on Saturday, walking up the hill dressed in summer white and turquoise designed to show off her tan (real or otherwise), her sunglasses atop skillfully highlighted hair; watched her climb into a gigantic 4x4 and drive off with the roof down and music blaring - then I knew I was right all along.
She did love herself and I still hated her for it.
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