The tale of my mom who practice favouritism in denial.

Being labelled at school is one thing but being labelled by your mom is whole other level of insult. It just adds as much blood and pain because there's a person that you love so very much and he/she is hurting you verbally. Every Asian kid have to feel at least some kind of physical pain but what hurts is not the bruise, it's the memory. It stays on forever, like it or not. You're lucky if you could go through life forgetting about every bad memory in life. But you're probably suffering from amnesia.

  I had a dilemma very similar like this that happened three years ago. But of course it dates all the way back in kindie school where being loved is crucial for one's healthy childhood. I had the best day, being tortured by kids because of my size and teachers neglecting me, because of my size and grandparents wondering like it's a world mystery on how chubby I can get, because of my size. I thank my lucky stars that my dad was a busy working man at my young age or not he'll also be one of the people on my list that I'd like to kill  contributed the source of my low self-esteem.

  I remember once there was a very dark moody morning and I was about the age of 5 (I think), the class was silent with pure looking faces at the bipolar teacher. I don't know what we did wrong, or more of what I did wrong but whichever kid that needs to go the toilet is excused but when they come back they will terribly face the teacher with a big perspex cutter. I didn't need to go the toilet but something snapped and the urge to let my own Niagara fall was in the way of saving myself from the treacherous teacher. So I made a whole big scene with the teacher and was crying very loudly. I think I got slapped by her fat oily hand but who cares, her presence still make me cringe.  None of the teachers believed me. None of the kids stood up for me. Nobody cared. It was like somebody farted and it just passed around like wind. Am I that unnoticeable? Am I that easy to resist? For crying out loud, a kid is crying her life out that she went through abuse. Not caring? You're inhumane. I swore to myself that I'll come back to the kindergarten wearing all white with white boots carrying a heavy gun killing everybody in sight. My mother gave me a tight slap across the face for being such a brat at school. My dad just looked neutral. As if I'm not a threat and even if I am, he wouldn't do anything.

  Two years later, the same thing happened. I was simply doing my work with my terrible handwriting and suddenly my English teacher (who I still dread till today. I have plans on going back to primary school and just slap her face and make her apologize to me) being all schizophrenic and all used those heavy wooden rulers and made a nice red swollen mark on my knuckles. Her excuse, make my handwriting better. The swelling went down fast and there was no proof for me to show my mom the abuse I went through. Instead, she gave me the cold shoulder. I was devastated. There was practically nobody to go to. Really. A situation nobody could ever guess.

I was left hurt. The piece of glass still sits in my heart.

So enough with the blast of the past. My main focus is my mom's practice of favoritism in denial not child abuse.

My brother came back one day with a red scar on his face that spread as wide as the H1N1 epidemic. I got worried so I went and applied some cream and put a neat bandage over it. I even took the effort to put some of my favourite BB Cream to cover small grazed skins over his cheek. My mom, the lady who didn't care about child abuse called up the school, threatening to sue the school over their carelessness. She told everybody even friends outside her clique, practically every person she met the story of her son's face would be the most important. She went all the way to write a letter, talk to teachers, talk and argued with the kids' parents' and more teachers too. So much love for my brother.

Let me tell you my story then.

  I had handball practice and I fell. Hard. Very hard on my ankle. I bet there was a fracture there and it hurt so much more than giving birth. I could tell. I didn't cry because I know it's stupid to cry about it. My team mates were kind and tended to me like a real mom would. A teacher called my mom and she was screaming all over the phone on how I keep distracting her from work. I told her that my ankle got twisted in between her fits and also told her that it probably got fractured. She stopped for a while and asked these exact questions.
MOM: Where were you when you fell down?
ME: At the school field.
MOM: Where are you now?
Me: Under some tree in the canteen.
MOM: Stupid girl. Very stupid. I taught you better! You don't listen very well. I think you have autism. Stupid girl, you can't walk if you had a fracture anywhere. You walked all the way down the stairs so I don't think you can fool me with your crap. I'm a doctor. So stop wasting my time and everybody's time. Go and study.
-phone goes dead-

It took three girls and a teacher to help me walk down the stairs. Because of my weight and my retarded ankle.

  When everybody went to their practices, I sat under the shady tree with the sun shining so very bright, tearing. I cried because I really thought nobody loved me. And I had this thought for years and this proved it. I thought I was strong to not cry, strong to withstand the pain. But I realized that it wasn't the physical pain that I was facing, but the emotional pain I had to go through. I was 11 by the way.

My mom waited in front of the gate to pick me up. One of my friend wanted to offer a hand but I said no. It took me a while to reach up to her. She got very impatient and said that I was very good at acting. I went back home and cried myself to sleep. My dad later came to my room and complained that I stink and should belong to a zoo. He gave a me an ankle guard and said "You're gonna have problems when you grow up. Especially with your weight. You're fat as hell. You shouldn't eat so much. Do you understand me?" I nodded and slept off again.

I don't know whether this act of favoritism came from my looks, my age, my attitude? I'm confused as of right now.

Today something struck me to write this down. First, my mother rudely hit my door. In her defense, it's call waking me up or not you can't be a doctor. She looked at me so cruelly like what you can find from the Queen's face from Snow White. I get very moody when I wake up when I don't plan to. It sounds very bratty but a cloud of anger will be hard to erase kay. So fine. OK. That was nothing. Then the first two things she whispered to me was, "You either clean and mop the whole house or peel all the onions and garlic." SO FINE. I choose the mopping chore with an obviously annoyed face. I filled up the pail and brought it to the kitchen behind a divider and dropped it a little bit harshly. I heard my mom saying this to my grandparents, "Imagine if she was our maid. I would be so annoyed, dropping things everywhere." My grandfather laughed. Pissed beyond relief, angry beyond hell. I couldn't stop tears and curses coming out. Compare me to a maid? And say that like in secrecy? I felt insulted more than any fat names teased by family and peers, combined. Do I make your life so terrible? I would shift out if that is what you really want. I'd rather go to my friend's houses and sleep on the couch that sleep on my bed knowing that my own blood and kin whispering nasty things about me. I wonder if it's karma? Or is it just me.

Kay. I don't want my mom to see my face all swollen and red from crying. I'm going to listen to music now.

Won't you get bummed out for something you know you can do better than people but no one recognizes it? It's sickeningly frustrating. Part of me wants to show the world that I CAN do better than you dipshits and a part of me says humility is the policy. Be humble? Sure but thats' whats' stopping me from showing people my abilities. People only come to me for work not because they see me as someone to talk to and chill out.

I can't be comfortable around people when I can't be comfortable with myself. I think that speaks for itself. I use the Internet because I find it pleasant when people don't see my face.  Gosh. I make a bad reputation of myself.