Handling a Bully or How I Became a Prizefighter


I was trolling Facebook and saw a post by a writer I love and adore, the sweet Fisher Amelie, about her son being bullied on his birthday.  My heart broke for her.  I cannot even imagine the pain she herself must be feeling over her sweet baby getting bullied.  It has got to be hard as a parent.  Unfortunately, I do understand what that feels like as a child.  I was bullied.  Back then, we didn’t really have a name for it.  We just thought kids were just mean to other kids or were being “picked on”.  It was never fun to be the butt of the jokes, teasing and laughter.  One day, I had enough of being picked on.  This is my story of how I became a prizefighter.

I was a nerdy geeky little girl…who am I kidding…I still am.  But when you are a kid, sitting and reading during recess isn’t cool.  I wasn’t very good at sports, except softball, and I was not popular.  At all.  I was a quiet, shy, introverted kid with glasses.  And I am not kidding about the reading at recess.  One day in fourth grade, I had had enough.  There I was, minding my on business after recess, standing in line to wash my hands when the boy behind me starting pulling on my hair.  This was not the first time.  This particular boy took pleasure in tormenting me every day, whether it be pulling my hair, pinching me or throwing spit wads my way.  I stood there every time and took it quietly.  This time, I took a chance and turned and asked him to stop.  All I remember is a rude snide comment coming out of his mouth in reply and I snapped.  The quiet, meek little girl let her Ninja Fighting skills take over.  In about two seconds flat, my fist connected with his eye, he fell to the ground and I proceeded to choke him out.  All the other kids, stunned by what was occurring, yelled for the teacher who came running over and also could not believe her eyes.  It happened so fast that no one was even sure what to do and it took her a minute to pull me off of that bully.  I tell you I learned my awesome Ninja skills at an early age.

Of course we had to go to the Principal’s office and of course our fathers were called to come in.  I was sitting outside the office crying while the boy and his father were in talking with the principal when my Daddy showed up, looking none too pleased.  He sat next to me, not saying a word.  Just waiting our turn while I cried quietly, imagining my punishment.  I was sure I was gonna be grounded for life, fed to crocodiles or what I imagined to be the equivalent of waterboarding in my child mind.  Soon, we were called into the office with the bully and his father.  My Daddy, being the patient man he is, listened to the Principal explain how I put my awesome Ninja fighting skills to use against the bully.  Couldn’t anyone focus on the fact that I had these amazing skills?  Noooo…we had to discuss how I used them against someone.  Sigh.  I could already see the shiner starting on the bully’s eye as both him and his father glared at me.  I held my head high and hoped I wouldn’t die of embarrassment as my Daddy yelled at me.  My Daddy turned to me, after the Principal was finished, and I waited anxiously for the yelling to occur.  This happened instead:

Daddy (looking down at me quietly):  “Did ya win?”

Me (surprised but determined):  “Well Sir.  I am not the one with a black eye, he is.”

Daddy nods, stands up and takes my hand and makes to leave.  Bully’s Father, mad as hell, stands up:  “Aren’t you gonna make your kid apologize to my kid?”

Daddy (now with a smirk on his face):  “Nope.  Your kid must have really pissed off my kid for her to hit him.  I taught her to use those skills only when necessary so I think you need to ask your son why she felt it was necessary. Now excuse me.  I am taking my prizefighter daughter home.”

We then left, leaving everyone in the office with their jaws on the floor.  Daddy looked down at me as we walked out and said one last thing “Proud of you kid but don’t tell your Mom I taught you to fight.” and he hugged me.  I never got punished, fed to crocodiles or waterboarded much to my surprise.  My Daddy is pretty awesome.

Also…that bully…well he never bullied me again.  He actually kept his distance as did the others who bullied me.   Guess it pays to be a prizefighter.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did share with you how I overcame a bully but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl Prize Fighter Ninja Warrior Running.  The experiment continues…

4 thoughts on “Handling a Bully or How I Became a Prizefighter

  1. Christie April 12, 2015 / 4:32 pm

    Kudos to you, and your Dad!

    My son has been bullied horribly. And it is one of the worst feelings for a parent. I put him in Karate to help boost his self-esteem and so he could learn to defend himself. I remember the day he beat up his bully. It was a glorious thing to behold. Yep, I saw it happen. Proudly watched on as that little brat got the stuffing beat out of him right in the front yard. And like your bully, he never bothered my son again!

    Like

  2. Sherry Monaghan April 13, 2015 / 7:15 pm

    Knew there was a reason I love Monaghan men…and their kids. Bravo, Kristann!!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s