“Hey fatboy! Look over here!” A gruff, loud voice from the row behind me shouts. All of the seniors were bunched together in the JV gym for our panorama picture. Class of 2010, look how far we’ve come…

I know immediately that he’s talking to me. It’s a spider sense all geeks are equipped with. We know when a muscular jerk calls us fat or pathetic or a loser. We could be in a room full of nerds, but if it’s you they’re yelling at, you immediately know it deep in your gut, beneath the fat.

It had been awhile since I had been bullied. In fact, I had to go all the way back to Worley Middle School. Those were dark days. It was then I learned I was goofy-looking and unattractive. I always knew I was overweight, but it wasn’t until Worley that I knew it was one of the worst things you can be.

High school has been different; I had found theater and newspaper. Departments made of people that were like me. People who liked me, who enjoyed having me around. Suddenly, being able to quote Star Wars or talk in funny voices was a good thing. I became pampered. I became complacent. I had forgotten what it was like to get called names and picked on by strangers.

“Hey, what’s with the poofy hair man? That don’t look good.” It’s another voice; this one takes the extra step of grabbing at my hair. I don’t look at them. I was astounded. Am I being bullied? Are they making fun of me? I had worn my geekiness with pride for so long that I had forgotten why I ever hid it. This is why. At that moment, being chubby and weird looking wasn’t endearing, or charming; it was a liability. I was back at Worley. I was truly a geek again.

Only this time, I wasn’t hurt. Back at Worley, someone calling me fat would’ve made me cry on impact. “Hey, nice manboobs.” Boom, tears. But now, I was more puzzled and annoyed than hurt. Is stating facts really an insult?

Yes, I’m fat. Yes, I have poofy hair. I’m wearing jeans too slick; you want to mention that as well? Now, being bullied by these jocks (Oh, they were jocks, trust me. Spider sense.) just made be kind of angry. I wondered why this was. I wondered why it didn’t sting as much as it used to.

The answer came after the panorama picture was taken. I went back to the gym floor and was greeted by my friends. Funny, charming, awesome people. They greeted me with kind words, smiles and laughter. They liked me. They like the human I am, manboobs and all. And I found this ridiculously reassuring. The bullies before were insulting me because I’m fat and have funny hair. But my friends like me because of everything that mattered. This was something I didn’t know back at Worley. It was a lesson that I had to learn. I had grown up. Now, I can graduate. Now, I can leave.

(Writer’s note: I’m not really sure who the guys were. But I’m glad it happened. It made me realize how far I’ve come and how some people still haven’t grown up from our time at Worley.)