DAY#49 - Shirts VS. Skins
When you ask kids what there favorite class in school is fifty percent will reply gym and the other half will reply lunch. Mine favorite class was computers. I skipped lunch to spend time in the computer room and I hated gym. To me gym was the furtherest thing from fun there was. I actaully found myself very pleased if I could figure a way to get out of it. The thing I disliked the most was playing indoor basketball. First the gym teacher would allow a few of the cream of the crop gym peeps to be team leaders and then they would pick teams. Of coarse, you know the ending, I was always one of the last kids picked. And to make my gym experience even more un-fun they would call shirts vs. skins. I was always lucky enough to be skins.
I hated this. Mostly because I hated my body shape and became the subject of a lot of jokes. My moobs (man boobs) were the ever present subject of a million jokes. To top it off the biggest jerks would grab them and say stupid stuff. I was humiliated beyond belief. I got to the point where I would forget to bring my gym clothes to school. That usually got me out of gym and in in-school detention for the hour. Anything to not be the subject of ridicule.
Mr. Hibshman was my gym teacher and got on my case about forgetting my gym clothes and also ridiculed me. Finally one day I reached my breaking point I walked into his office and said. I will never forget my gym clothes, as long as he would never pick my team to be skins ever. We shook on the deal and that day an odd friendship started. Mr. Hibshman for the jerk I thought he sometimes was, had a heart.
For the rest of my high school career I was always shirts. Hibshman lived up to his word. He never called my team for skins again. One morning he split us up into two teams on either side of the gym and turned to the team opposite me and said pick a number 1 or 2 for skins. He held 1 finger behind his back and asked a guy on the other side to pick. He picked 1 and my heart sank. For split second I freaked out. Then Hibshman with a spark in his eye switched his fingers behind his back to a 2 and showed the other team. He then declared my team the winner and made the other team skins.
As an adult I still find myself in the place of ridicule. Feeling like the shirtless fat boy with moobs in a room full of sneering jocks. Real or a figment of my imagination I am not sure. It feels real enough so it must be right? I struggle with this more than I like to admit.