So, here's a bit of an intro about myself. I'm a girl, 5' 4" and 118 lbs. I have a mesomorph body type, compact and muscular. But anyways, I'm not an Olympian. I am physically strong, always been noted for that, but things like cardio kill me. Just absolutely destroy me. Even in the peak of the running season, I have asthma, exercise-induced asthma, causing my lungs to burn even when my legs feel ready to keep going and push on more. 

Anyways, here I was in the spring of fourth grade. I was by myself, swinging awkwardly on the monkey bars. I had already begun to develop a greater sense of self-consciousness because I had just switched from a private school, which I had been going to since preschool, to a completely different environment, a public school, with new kids and new experiences. 

I had discovered, in the beginning of the fall, that one of the new activities at my school were standardized physical tests, the majority being cardio- and aerobic-centered. We had to run a mile and do a variety of other assorted tests, i.e., the dreaded Pacer, which I am sure most kids who went through public school are familiar with.

For some reason, though, all the kids at Shelburne Community School seemed to excel at. In comparison, there was only one other person besides myself in my class, whose mile was longer than nine minutes.

Looking back, that is actually a fairly normal mile time for a nine year-old girl. In fact, according to the official health standards of the Fitness Gram itself, that is actually one of the minimum mile times for someone like me. However, at my school, the culture seemed to be completely focused on sports and fitness, so a nine minute mile wasn't that good.

And apparently my gym teacher, who did not seem to appear too much on the physically-fit side himself, seemed to have noticed that. 

To get back to my original story, I had just been introduced to lacrosse, which I would continue for the next five years (and to which I am debating, at this point, whether or not to try out for the highschool team. It is not a question of my skill, I feel, but rather of my dedication. You see, team sports have never exactly been my thing. I prefer individual-oriented tasks, where I am able to compete against myself, and push myself to my highest endurance point possible without others for reference and comparison. I tend to lose my steam, I notice, whenever I put myself up against others, which is another unfortunate habit I have developed, probably caused as well by elementary gym classes). I had recently completed another nine minute mile, and my face was flushed fairly red, although it had probably turned a lighter shade of pink, and I was breathing hard still, ten minutes later or so. I probably had sweat dripping down my face. 

Now, I can admit, then I probably was not in the greatest shape. But to reiterate, as I had said before, that was only in comparison to kids who attended the mostly white, middle- to upper-class school, and for someone, who had come from a lower- to middle-class household half the time, had a situation a little bit different. 

Anyways, the gym teacher walked up to me. He says, "Hannah, are you sure you get enough physical activity? Do you ever go outside and get exercise?"

Now, fifteen year-old me who has developed very strong political and philosophical opinions since then, but is told by adults and strangers that I am a very polite person, would say in a very enlightened vocabulary of something along the lines of: "Hey, you fat fucker, how about you mind your own Goddamn business and hit the gym once in awhile yourself, dickhead."

But a mild-natured, already slightly insecurity-plagued fourth grader me, said in a very quiet voice, "Uh, yeah. I just started lacrosse, and I, uh, play defense. I also like hiking, and stuff. . ." And I very uncomfortably stood there until he nodded, and walked away. 

I stood there ashamed, an unnatural redness returning to my face. My greatest fears realized. I was fat. He noticed. Everyone else must have noticed. 

Now, of course I actually wasn't, as I had stated before, but was fairly normal. My problem was is that it had created a habitual comparison of myself and my abilities to others. It was the creation of an awareness of a culturally-perceived negative self-concept, which is what I would anthropologically and via Freudian psychology, define as an insecurity.

So thanks Shelburne Community School, thanks from the bottom of my heart, for giving me body self-esteem images.