Diane

 1980

 

Middle school is an awkward time for a lot of kids. In any school, there is that one girl who suddenly blossoms, becoming mesmerizingly pretty overnight as puberty kicked in. In our school, Northwood, the girl who suddenly went from Plain Jane was Diane.

Late in 6^th grade, Diane suddenly had noticeably large breasts, and better shaped legs than the girls around her, and she was suddenly pretty, too. Her breasts weren’t just noticeable. They were large. It seemed to happen overnight, but I’m sure that the reality was it was over a period of months.

The guys were evenly split on her. Half of the boys had no interest in girls yet, and the other half worshipped the ground she walked on. The girls also seemed conflicted. Many were so mad at her they could spit, and at the same time, the girls all seemed to want to be her friend.

Mind you, she couldn’t help going through the changes her body was experiencing, and I have no doubt that she was spending a lot of time experiencing negative emotions associated with what people were saying about her, and about how she was feeling, physically.

I remember one day in science class, that Diane, who was sitting at the table right behind me, was the subject of conversation. It was one of those conversations about someone that is carried on right in front of them, while pretending they’re not there, and can’t hear. The conversation was about her breasts, how stupid she looked with those big things, how she was a freak and a loser because of her body, how she felt she was better than everyone else because she had tits, how she clearly was a slut because she showed her breasts off (you know, wore the same tops every other girl in school wore), etc.

This went on for about 15 minutes, despite the presence of the teacher in the room. We were doing activities, so the teacher, rather than lecturing, was in the front of the room, at his desk. I remember feeling increasingly bad for her. Finally I couldn’t take it any more, and turned around and told them to stop it, that they were being mean. There was a shocked silence for a moment, and then some laughter, and a comment that “look, the wimp is defending the slut”. But they stopped, which shocked even me.

The kid I hung out with in middle school at that time, Mike, he asked me what my problem was. All I could come up with was that it was wrong, talking about her like that. He seemed to find that odd, to the point that by the end of that year, we were no longer talking. 

Diane seemed to appreciate it, though. For the rest of 6^th grade, I had a sort-of friend. We were in different social circles, but she would talk with me, and I always got a smile and a wave.