I can recall, clear as ever.
It was fifth grade. The classrooms air was sticky due to the humid afternoon air. Electric fans whirring, over the teacher’s strained voice. None of us students cared about the lesson, we were either doodling, gossiping with hushed tones or wiping their clammy hands out of nervousness.
I was a short little girl with big eyes and a bob-cut which made my face plumper that it should be. I was a quiet child, not the social butterfly, or not that I could remember. That day I was borderline anxious and insecure. Why?
Oh, I forgot to mention…
It was fifth grade, and the date was February 14th.
They called it “Valentine’s Day”.
For me, it’s a little more like “Doomsday Jr. Day”
hated despised February 14th. Not because I was insecure, (okay, maybe a LITTLE bit) but because for me, it was over-rated. You see, I grew up never believing in love, if I did have a semblance of belief in it, it was that: Ever day can be as special as Valentine’s Day if you have the right person in your life. So quite obviously, seeing a hormone-induced, pre-teen interrupt the entire lecture to confess their love and hand their “soul mate” made me hurl, though it WAS such a bore hilarious way to cut the teacher’s discussion short.
Lunchtime isn’t any better. Coming back to class seeing red roses and giant teddy bears on my seatmate’s desk, and none on mine made me want to shrivel up and hide.
I heard the “Ooohs and Aaawwwwhs” of the teachers and students, swooning over these lovebirds in school.
This went on until fourth year high-school (senior year) when the gestures of the teen boys became more and more extravagant. From giant bouquets to enormous, human sized teddy bears, things just got so much more
classy cheesy. For us girls though, it’s a bit of an extravagant blow. Dear Valentine was a voice in our head that whispers: Girls, if you would not be able to receive anything today- not even a tiny, cheap Cadbury chocolate bar, you’re a loser.
And that my friends, is the voice that stuck to me since fifth grade, it just got louder and more convincing as the years went by.
Looking back to where I used to be, I’m glad that I have stuck to the confidence I have in the meaning of love, that it’s not about one-pound chocolate bars, matching t-shirts, giant teddy bears or human-sized bouquets.
Yesterday, I passed by the shop where all those guys in my school used to get affordable gifts for their childhood crushes, oh it used to be such a thing – Blue Magic. I allowed those gifts to make myself feel bad for not being one of the popular girls in school, or one of the lovable kinds either. I was bad at being noticed, so naturally, I never got any presents. For years I let it consume me so much until I believed that I truly was a loser.
To girls like myself, don’t allow anything to diminish your worth. Don’t let those thoughts dim the fire that burns from within you. You are so much more than anything anyone could buy, and the only thing that could make your worth so much more (other than yourself and who you are constantly becoming) is the right partner.
It took me a while to discover that I may have been a late bloomer up until I graduated college, and that it just takes a while for butterflies to grow their wings to the beautiful thing it really is. I’m still growing, still in the process of becoming someone someday – we all are. Let it be, allow yourself room to grow, and tell everyone else (even that voice in your head) to move over for a better YOU.
Don’t let your flames be fizzled by not having what everyone else has. Don’t let that Blue Magic make you feel that you are less lovable than you are.