There was a kind of physical anarchy that dominated most of my younger life. I was always too skinny, not hairy enough, my voice jumped around. It was a thing that drove me away from towel lines in gym class.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When I was growing up, I was teased for being too skinny. I went to summer camp when I was 11. I wore shorts, and the nurse said to me, in front of all my friends, that I was anorexic and that she had to monitor me to make sure I was eating. Because of that trauma, I never wore short pants or short skirts until I was 20.
At school, I got teased because I was so thin and awkward-looking.
I was a very focused kid. I always had this crazy lifestyle... billions of jobs, two hours of gymnastics every day, handball, anything with a ball, really. I must have had ADHD or something. I was very energetic, and very small. I didn't start growing until the last year of high school.
I was a very shy character, always feeling uncomfortable because everybody was stronger than I, and always afraid I would look like a sissy. Everybody else played baseball; everybody else did all kinds of athletic things.
As a kid, I was super skinny.
I mean, everyone walks into the gym on day one skinny or fat. Arnold Schwarzenegger walked into the gym skinny at 15 or 16, and I was that way, too.
By the time I turned 12, I was a 5-foot 10-inch social disaster. Towering over my friends was the bane of my adolescence.
When I was younger, I was chubby. It gave me a terrible sense of self-image, and I guess I carry that around with me still.
When I was a teenager, I was fat. I was shy. I wore glasses. I had a big eyebrow and hair all over my body. They were years of torture.
I grew up in a very 'Friday Night Lights,' sports-focused town. I did not play the sports. I was never bullied physically, but I was called names. I was also an overweight kid. I knew what it's like to feel like the other, to feel written off for things that were not in my control - my appearance, my interests.