Despite cancel culture and anti-bullying awareness programs, some people are just bully magnets. When I was a 98 pound high school senior, the editors of the paper humor magazine asked if I would pose for a cover photo: I would be depicted pretty much as I was – long blonde hair, thick glasses, rail thin – surrounded by a bevy of the toughest, most menacing teens they could find. The issue would be headlined “BACK TO SCHOOL!” That idea was bumped for a little boy peeing (discreetly) into a bush. Fame is fleeting, indeed.
I matched the template of the prototypical “bullied youth,” someone perceived as being physically unable to defend oneself. Humor diffused much tension with what would now to classified as children who were “troubled,” “acting out,” or “in bad home environments.”
A quick wit didn’t get me into more scrapes. The stereotype from the movies is along the lines, “That smart mouth is gonna earn a fist in your nose.” I was savvy enough to survey the lay of the land and avoid pitfalls.
For decades, I recounted my “last fight” happening in sixth grade, complete with details: Stocky Josh Moore (not a real name) learned I was trading Wacky Packages stickers and plunked 10 cards onto my desk one morning during a break.
“I have all of these,” I told him.
