Just Call Me Eve

 15 years ago, Riverdale, Anywhere, USA

 There are many ways children  ridicule other kids when they are different.

Kids are relentless in their cruelty.

How about if you stood 5 foot 9 feet tall by the time you were 12, ate like a horse, wore braces, bad hair, and huge overbite, nose too large, and was thin as a rail?

And you were a female? Well that was me, Ethel May Muggs.

"Tooth pick, bucky, rabbit teeth, ugly muggly, toofus, Twiggy, skinny Minnie ,doofus,  butt ugly, how's the weather up there? Oh let's not forget 'beanpole' and knobby knees.

No day went by that I didn't hear one of this kind of remarks about my appearance.

Not dating material. Just an old pal kind of girl.

They were talking about me. Ethel Muggs. I was a tomboy . Nothing girly about me.

I was good at sports, I was a good dancer and got good grades. I just was not good looking.

It didn't help that all of my friends were all dating and all drop dead gorgeous.

 I was  what you would call an ugly ugly duckling. Or caterpillar. The kind that turned into moths.

I was the only child to David and Marsha Muggs*( Auth note: I could not find out the real names of Ethel's parents, so I made them up). They doted on me, their only child, making me feel like a princess, when I was really so utterly  ugly to every one else in the world.

My parents had despaired of ever having any children, and after 15 years of marriage, mom got pregnant with me. They thought I was the most adorable baby on earth.

They were the only ones who thought that.

Mom and Dad always ignored the false praises of my 'beauty'. They had to know that people thought I was ugly as shit. As long as I remember, I could see the slight look of disgust when their friends looked at the Muggs' beautiful daughter.

One thing though. If anyone dared let either of my folks know they thought I was ugly there would be hell to pay. My mother was worse than my dad. She even resorted to cursing out the unfortunate person who hinted I was ugly.

“Fuck you. You ain’t no beauty yourself, fatso.” My mother would choose a flaw and usually had the person in tears. Word got around to lie about my looks around my folks. They were both in denial about my looks.

My parents loved me. I had a face only a mother (and father) could love.

 Nothing seemed to help improve on my looks. I would spend all of my  allowance on a nice new outfit or hairdo, but I could never get clothes to fit. My pants would be too short. ' High waters' was what they were called. So I just stopped wearing pants and stuck to skirts and shorts.  Because of my overbite, I looked like a beaver. My folks were saving to get braces because my dad’s job had a terrible dental plan. My hair was always frizzy.  I liked to put head bands or bows in it, hoping it made me look interesting, in a good way. It didn’t. I never wore makeup because it just made me look like a clown. I could never gain weight and my bones would show. I ate like a horse. I ate as much as my major crush, Jughead Jones.

The kids were not wrong in their teasing, but it still hurt.

I learned to hide my feelings, refusing to let those mean kids see they struck many nerves.

I would just laugh off the insults and that would throw the little shits into a whirl of confusion.

As I grew older, I secretly worked out. I became very strong. Don't let this big bag of bones fool you.

I was going to put an end to the bullying and ridicule. I have to make being a big girl be an advantage.

Even the ugly boys thought I was a walking joke, until I wrestled Moose Mason to the floor after one of his teasing sessions. Soon as the words 'knobbly knees' (he couldn't even say the word knobby correctly!) came from his mouth, I grabbed his arm, flipped him to the floor, and put his right arm into a painful arm hold. " Hey Ethel. I give up. Sorry I made fun of you. Can you teach me that move you just laid on me?" That was Moose for you. He never would hit a girl, and  he didn't hold grudges. I had made my point.  Me man handling Moose had stopped a lot of the wise cracks, I can tell you. Good. I'm sick to death of those little shits,

Moose became a good friend of mine, going as far to bust the shit out of anyone he heard or saw making fun of me. He did not like me as a girl friend, but as a pal.

Oh, well. It was something.

Most of the time, I just tried to look shorter by walking around with my shoulders stooped. I would hide my bones by wearing baggy clothes. Or hide my face behind big sun glasses or hats whenever I could.

I was so sick of being the joke of Riverdale.