The Girl in the Orange Jeans

Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind. ~ Henry James

 

 

 

I was standing at the edge of the stone wall looking down at the courtyard.

I remember there was a young boy near me. He had been following me around that day, being nice to me, buying me candy. That was a first for me in my young 12 years… and I was both flushed with excitement and a bit of anxiety. We had come to the famous ruins of Baalbeck, Heliopolis, or the city of the Sun, on a church youth group outing.

I remember what I was wearing- a pair of brand new orange jeans and a white t-shirt.

 

As I stood there, I was aware of other tourists around, I could hear cameras snapping. Then I heard the words:

Don’t take a picture of that girl with the crooked legs in the orange jeans!

I remember freezing, then slowly turning around, my heart pounding. There was a woman trying to photograph the entire scene with the wall and beyond, and I was in the way. The man had spoken these words in a language he thought I wouldn’t understand, without realizing it was my language too. And worst of all, my young, attentive friend had heard it and understood it too.

 

 

I started walking away with tears in my eyes. My friend tried to reassure me that my legs were not crooked.. but it didn’t matter. I was shamed. My first venture out into the limelight, and I was shot down. The rest of that day was just a blur with the words crooked legs, crooked legs, crooked legs, pounding in my head. I kept it to myself.

 

 

This incident, although seeming insignificant, affected me all through my teenaged years and sometimes even later.

 

I inspected my legs that evening, they didn’t seem to be crooked… they were short in proportion to my torso, but not crooked. But that man had said they were, so they must be, right? This was such a tender time in my life, just starting to bloom, feeling so self conscious, different, awkward. The timing couldn’t have been any worse.

How could one unkind, unthoughtful comment from a clueless man have such an impact on a young life?

 

The girl with the crooked legs in the orange jeans was with me all my life. I had feelings of shame, anger, fear, resentment, pity for her. I chided her for putting herself in the center of that wall that day… as if it was her fault. I didn’t show it, of course, but it had an impact. I avoided situations and if I didn’t, I braved them with anxiety. Of course it faded away, but every now and then, on different occasions, it would pop up, speaking at a Nursing Conference, school board meeting, or a PTA function.

Then one day, I went back to her.

I went back as her older wiser self, I went back as her protector, her mother, her older sister, her best friend. I went back with deep love for her. I held her hand and walked her away from that stone edge and that man. I told her her legs were beautiful just as they were. I let her lean her head on my shoulder and cry. I told her she’s going to grow up and reach a stage where she isn’t going to care what others think or say about her legs.

 

I told her she’s going to help other people deal with such pains. I told her not to ever be scared to put herself out there because of what others might say, because she was too important, too special to hide. I brought her back home with me and showed her what her life was going to be like in her future. I took her into my heart. Then we acted out a better ending for the scene, where she turned around and took a bow and walked away not with tears but sticking her tongue out at the couple.

 

 

Only after I went back to her, I got over that hurtful comment. Now, if a situation arises where I get anxious about my looks and what comments they might draw, I think of the girl in the orange jeans and smile, inwardly sticking a tongue out at nobody.

How many times do we say something in public, without realizing that it could be hurtful?

By practicing being present in the moment, being aware of our surroundings, we might be able to stay true to the kindness in our souls.

So many of our fears and anxieties go back to traumas and hurts in our past. As children, we don’t know how to process them, and they remain imprinted in our brains. Research shows that there are ways to heal these old hurts. If you have encounters with fear, anxiety, anger, sadness sometimes, that don’t seem to have a rhyme or reason, maybe something that happened way back in your childhood is being triggered. It might be worthwhile to look into it. I can help. 🙂