When I was seven, these kids in the alley behind our house in Omaha called me Freckleface Strawberry. I hated my freckles, and I hated that name. I thought it was humiliating in the way that only a seven-year-old could hate it.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I've got more freckles than just about anybody. My children didn't get them, thankfully. They have tiny little freckles.
When I was in first grade, everyone made fun of my name, of course. I think it's kind of a big name to hold up when you're nine years old. It seemed goofy. I used to tell people I wanted to change the world and they used to think, 'This kid's really weird'.
I had so many freckles that my mother used to say that they were kisses from the angels. I still have them.
Kids used to tease me unmercifully about that name.
As a kid, I was a dancer in Dick Whittington, Snow White and Cinderella. When I was 14, I played Baby Bear. I had a big head on, and you couldn't see my face. My mum was very disappointed.
Because I'm small, I've been called things from 'Happy Feet' to 'Little Face.'
My mom calls me 'baby face.' It's very embarrassing.
Of course I was bullied and of course I was called names - my last name is Weir. That's very, very close to 'weird,' or 'queer' and any of those words. But I've never been anyone to cry over spilled milk or be upset because kids don't like me, or people don't like me... It makes my skin stronger and thicker. And why cry? Your mascara runs.
My mom eventually got out to Oxnard and started a produce company and was in the strawberry business. My pops was out of the picture by the time I was 7.
I don't see myself as beautiful. I was a kid who was freckle-faced, and they used to call me 'hay head.'