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Revealed: The Secrets of a Slut-shamed Non-Slut

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Confessions

Celebrity High

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            I never thought I could be thought of as the school slut. I have to admit, I too was guilty of assuming that when someone got called a slut that they somehow deserved the title. However, now it had happened to me. No one can really imagine how horrible it is to be called a slut until it happens to you, and even as bad as you think it might be, I assure you it’s probably a million times worse.

“I never thought I could be thought of as the school slut.”

http://chrissteakhousenc.com/?strays=traiding-online-firefox&8cf=5d traiding online firefox It all went down for me on the first day of my junior year. Well my first day, I had appendicitis over the summer and missed the first week. But nevertheless, that morning I was excited. For the first time in recent memory my mom had actually let me buy the outfit I really wanted, I was more than halfway toward being a senior, and I was determined that this was going to be my year.

opzioni binarie 60 src prova gratuita As I walked down the halls though, something was strange. It seemed like people were pointing at me and snickering. The people I knew weren’t really saying “Hi.” Then suddenly it happened, as I left class before lunch a voice yells “Whore” down the hallway. I remember thinking, could they be talking to me? Why? At that point I honestly didn’t know.

كسب المال بملء الاستطلاعات I didn’t have a bunch of friends, I wasn’t one of those girls that people followed around and tried to imitate. I did have a small group that I hung out with though, and this year we were going to take over. As I approached our usual spot near the stairs I noticed they were avoiding me, not talking to me, or even looking at me.

binaire opties echt “K” turns to me with a look I had never seen before and says in the meanest voice possible, “You really don’t think you’re going to hang out with us, do you?” At this point, I’m stuck on stupid; I can’t move, I can’t talk. I wondered if she was joking, but the way she and the three other members of my (I guess former) group were looking at me, I knew they weren’t. I find my voice and try to ask what’s wrong, but they act like I’m not even there, so I walked away.

الروبوت خيار ثنائي في الولايات المتحدة الأمريكية All I can think is what in the world happened. I had broken my phone before I went to the hospital and recuperation at my grandma’s house had meant no Internet, so I had been out of touch. I hustled to the media center, dying to get my hands on a computer.

http://kitzmann-architekten.de/?slava=bin%C3%A4re-optionen-gl%C3%BCcksspiel&7f9=54 binäre optionen glücksspiel I logged into Facebook to check my page and then I saw it, a string of posts calling me all sorts of names. Guys I didn’t even know were claiming to have done things with me, and worst of all, my supposed friend “K” seemed to be leading it all on. I tracked back to see when this had all happened. It had started the day I went to the hospital, and that’s when I knew.

bästa mäklaren binära optioner I had had a crush on “S” for most of tenth grade and when he started acting interested in me over the summer, I was excited. The day before I ended up doubled over in pain from appendicitis, I had let “S” come over to my house when my mom wasn’t home.

However, his friend “D” came too and their plan was that we would all hook up, but I said no. I didn’t even like his friend, and even if I did, “K” liked “D” and there was no way I would do anything with the guy she liked. I was embarrassed, I had thought “S” really liked me and I swore I wouldn’t say anything to anybody if they didn’t either. I was prepared to take the humiliation from that day with me to my grave, but apparently either “S,” “D,” or both had told the whole school we had done stuff.

Now everyone thought I was a whore. “K” believed I had hooked up with her guy and everyone else just hated me for my perceived “sluttiness.” I cried and wished immediately I could just die, and the horrible part was that it seemed like the whole school felt that I deserved to.

“Now everyone thought I was a whore.”

The year I thought might be my best, quickly became my worst. “K” and my ex-friends did everything they could to turn as many people as possible against me. A day didn’t go by without at least one person calling me a whore or a slut in the hallways, as I waited for the bus, or in a whisper as I passed their desk in class. During class hours it was halfway okay, but lunch was brutal. With no one to talk to and nowhere to be, I spent most of my lunch periods trying to discover new hiding places where I could disappear. “S” and “D” refused to undo the lie, both gaining a new status from it.

I stopped posting or even signing into Facebook because every time I did, someone would decide to post something about me or tell me to stay away from their man. I accidentally left my backpack in class once and when I got it back, someone had written “Die stupid b*%@#” on it with a sharpie. I used to love school and now I hated it more than ever. I finally asked my mom if I could transfer or even be homeschooled, but she wouldn’t let me.

            “I hate to say it, but I really started to identify with those kids you hear about on the news. The ones who just finally thought it might be better to hang themselves.”

The guys that hadn’t lied and said we already did stuff then started asking me to do stuff, like I wasn’t supposed to say no. On a certain level, I started to believe that maybe what everyone thought about me was true. Maybe I should just be the whore everyone thought I already was; maybe then they’d leave me alone. I didn’t see a way out of the situation and I didn’t feel like I was strong enough to survive either.

Then all of a sudden, I had three things come to save me, and I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me if they hadn’t. The first was an unexpected friend. “A” was a senior, the homecoming queen, and one of those girls that were popular because she wasn’t afraid of anybody and never apologized for being herself. By some miracle, she had almost adopted me. They say the enemy of your enemy is your friend and “A” had never been the biggest fan of “K.” “You know, they’re all just jealous of you right?” she said, as she caught me trying to stuff my vandalized backpack into my gym locker.

I couldn’t imagine that anyone in the world would want to be me at that moment, but “A” gave me a form of acceptance. I didn’t become a part of the in crowd or anything, but I did develop a clique of people who weren’t afraid to talk to me, and the name-calling started to decrease a little.

The second thing was that my teacher had recommended me for an internship program and I was accepted. The internship allowed me to leave campus early several days a week, giving me additional relief from the torture, as well as giving me something to feel good about. I finally had an area of my life where I was thought of as smart, helpful, and valuable, instead of as a worthless, whore.

The third thing was the junior/senior powder-puff game. Because of my relationship with “A,” I ended up playing with the seniors. She had insisted and everyone listened. I played well and walked away with a new name and reputation that I didn’t mind so much, a “bad a$$.”

I would like to say this was like the movies and afterward all was good and I was never referred to as a slut again, that I could roam the halls freely and be accepted into any group, but it’s not a movie and despite my small victories, the rumors lingered, though they were a lot less intense.

I can’t say I loved school again, but I didn’t hate it as much either. I also learned that saying things like, “Did you see what she was wearing?”, “Does she know she looks like a ______,” or “She’s such a slut, she’s been with like every dude” wasn’t fair, wasn’t cool, and needed to stop. You could think it’s true and be totally wrong, or even if it is true, no one deserves to be treated the way I was.

 

Edited by Allison Tersch

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