In front of your monitors, you are reading a post by Cady Heron.
No joke.
Oops, you got fooled!
I’m still Candice but I’m just playing the part of Cady in relation to what I’ll blog here. Let me start with teensy weensy details.
Mean Girls is my favorite movie. From the first time I laid eyes on the movie one Sunday night, I instantly fell in love with it. I love the film not only for the memorable lines but also the scenes portrayed were parallel to real-life experiences. In the movie, Cady Heron goes to school and meets a clique popularly known as “The Plastics”. She becomes friends with them, catapults to school hierarchy and in a sudden twist of fate becomes the most hated girl in the campus.
Let’s get serious. I’m talking about Mean Girls because I can relate to it. In fact, up until now I am facing a lot of girl’s ala Regina George in school. Ask me if have ever been bullied. I’ll answer yes. Everything can be traced back to Grade 5. Before I tell you my Diary of a Plastics Victim, I’d like to inform all of you that all names have been altered to protect their privacy.
Once upon a time, I was a simple Grade 5 student part of section A. Sometime in October, I and my friend became part of a newly-formed clique. We ate lunch together at the cafeteria, swapped gossips and secrets and had a lot of fun. But beneath the chuckles was one word piercing every girl’s mind: backstabbing. It was at the same time I began feeling the wrath of the mean girls. Slowly, each of my “friends” asked me to do orders such as to throw their trash and buy their food at the canteen. They treated me like a scullery maid. I was afraid they’ll hate me if I didn’t follow their orders so I just said yes.
In a class grouping in November 2005, it took for the worse. I was assigned to an acting group for a multiple intelligence activity. Our focus was Proserpine and Pluto. I thought it would be the opportunity to showcase my talent to the whole class but it went the other way around. During the course of our rehearsals and the presentation itself, I was ignored by almost all of my groupmates. They even made me play A FLOWER. Can you believe that? On the day of our performance, I just sat there doing zilch. And on another activity with the same grouping at Sibika class, I wasn’t informed of what we were supposed to do. It broke my heart not being recognized as a member of their group. The bad events lasted the whole month.
More and more classmates turned against me even though I didn’t do anything bad to them. A friend phoned me one afternoon telling me a lot of people hate me because I was not as cool as other girls, I was stupid, and I was a big loser. She even told me to say vulgar words to enhance my maturity. WHAT THE CRAP. Did God oblige us to say the seven dirty words to be called matured people? It was a series of unfortunate events. My classmates will whisper something negative about me, wouldn’t want to be my seatmate or partner and even friend. Then it all came to a head on the day I’ll never ever forget.
November 25, 2005. It was the day of the PAASCU accreditation. Little I knew it would give me a great effect on my personal life up to this day. I went down from 5-A to the GS lawn to line up with my classmates. I placed at this girl’s back and she told me if I should be placed in there. I said yes but she replied, “Hindi ka diyan!” So I moved to one girl to another but they all said the same thing. A few minutes later, the same classmate who began everything made parinig to her friend gesturing “Candice is smelly”. It was at the peak of the class gossip where I was rumored to have…just read the previous sentence. Luckily, my class adviser arrived to see what was happening. I was in tears while my classmates scolded me to stay out of their sight. That teacher asked me why I crying. I suddenly ran out of the lawn in a dash and locked myself in a cubicle in the CR. I was weeping inside there during the whole flag ceremony. When it was time for the introduction of the PAASCU heads, I came out of the CR and a teacher comforted me upon seeing me in flooded tears.
It didn’t stop there. My “best friend” backstabbed me for three whole months. She kept on calling me every afternoon only to tell how despised I am in our class. I didn’t do anything wrong to them. I tried to make friends with them but they rejected me. I didn’t really enjoy the company of my groupmates in Music that school year because I learned from a classmate that they didn’t want me in their group. I shed a few tears following what I’ve heard from her. On March the following year, I temporarily lost my best friend because I showed to my adviser a very immoral illustration she made in my drill notebook. Everything went quiet for a while. The following school year, I was about to graduate grade school. I thought I was already appreciated by my classmates because they kept on cheering me whenever I had a presentation. Unfortunately, it started another string of hurt feelings against my ex-class.
More classmates treated me like dirt. Almost all of my seatmates didn’t want me around them because they were disgusted by my looks. SO WHAT? It sickened me the whole time I was near them. Along with a few of other girls near us, they would make nasty comments about me. I pretended not to care.
My Grade 6 adviser reprimanded my classmates on October 6, 2006 regarding on their actions towards me. I blurted out to the whole class during an open forum how they treated me. After that, a lot of girls apologized to me. For a few months it went smoothly. Now let’s move on to my life in junior year.
I was victimized by bullying again. A few schoolmates made everything in my life like inferno. They called me ugly and asked why I wasn’t as pretty as my batchmates. An array of names followed: freak, nerd, and a loser. One girl told me the reason why I don’t have a boyfriend until now is because I’m not beautiful. I said that guy will arrive in the future and she replied with “ulol”. A few others cursed me mercilessly. There was even someone in school who post a status against me saying “Nakakainis si Candice!” flooded with comments. She even told me I was FC. Here’s another bombshell: one told me it would be best for me to leave STC.
Up until now, there are some classmates who didn’t treat nicely as they do to others. Once in a while I would cry to my mom telling her how horrible my bullies were. She told me that one day, I’ll be out to be successful and that’s will be my greatest revenge to all those who abused me. Often times, I’d imagine myself in the shoes a popular girl in school whom everyone worshipped like Aphrodite. I imagined a life without anyone who will label me in a negative way. I always wished I was in their place so I could enjoy popularity and the feeling of being loved.
As long as I don’t do anything against those girls, I don’t deserve to be bullied. Now that’s what I call a real life Mean Girls movie.
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