My 7th grade year we moved to South Carolina and this was my first experience with public school. I am not and will not, ever shame public school, however having been in private school 6 years prior, there were many obvious differences other than class size. Besides now there being a greater socio economic difference, here is where there were swearing, fighting, sex, and drugs introduced themselves to me.
South Carolina is a beautiful place to grow up. Greer is a small town outside of Greenville, where I lived specifically. The mountains I miss. You are not too far from Georgia, North Carolina, even Tennessee. You still have your southern pride, southern food, and love for SEC. It was just different. I went from an island to inland, private to public, and started again reinventing myself as an 12 year old. I was a little more mature, my boobs definitely bigger. Unfortunately the boobs gave me and reputation quickly, of being a whore. I had not kissed a boy until the 7th grade or had a boyfriend. This hurt me deeply. I didn’t understand why everyone was making fun of me all the time. I had things written about me on the bathroom stalls of the boys room about me “giving good head” and being a “slut”. My Dad had to come paint over the comments at some point they were getting so bad. This was hurtful for all. I am not sure if at that time my Dad questioned my innocence, but it was shortly after my pain turned into some action that was infamous.
My move to South Carolina was also the beginning of the end, for my parents marriage as I started my delinquent, and even felonious journey from 7th grade well into my 20’s. It was fucking nuts.
My Dad sent me to modeling school which was more for personal development than anything. My Mom and I were not close. I do not recall learning things from her, one would from their mother, as a preteen. I learned some things from Millie Lewis, I use to this day. Confidence, etiquette, poise, posture, speaking skills, make up, fashion. My Dad was forever enrolling me in activities to help my self esteem. God, I will forever love my Father. I used my modeling pictures to gain popularity at school, and it was working in a way. My hair was growing out, it was ok to be tall with a full C cup. I knew how to do my makeup, which my Dad finally allowed me to do in moderation.
My Dad always told me I had a big mouth. Well, at this time starting a new school where I had no friends and was being sexually harassed constantly, and bullied, my big mouth served me well. Though I had never gotten in a fight before, I used my big mouth as a defense mechanism and scared a few people straight. I would threaten to beat people up all the time, as to make sure those more intimidating than me, took listen. I had never gotten in a fight before. I didn’t even know how to fight, but I could sure talk a good game.
I was starting to gain popularity in all the wrong ways. Acting up in class was gaining me friends, talking shit was keeping me from getting my ass kicked, and losing my virginity in the 8th grade health room made me some kind of hero. It was awful and disgusting and something I wish I could forget. I was now gaining the reputation of being a whore, by being a whore.
I was popular, but not with my parents.
Boys were more important than grades, and soon I had smoked pot for the first time, stolen my Mom’s brand new Acura Legend after getting into a bottle of wine with a girlfriend, and wrecked it. Three flat tires, tore up two yards, air bags exploded everywhere, and this was all before high school.
I was having meaningless sex with the 8th grade playboy through high school. After losing my virginity to him, this lasted on and off until well after my senior year. He was absolutely horrible to me, used to lie to me, steal from me, but I was craving his attention to such a degree I’d do anything for him or to make him notice me. I snuck out all the time to see him. I had sex with him for 6 plus years and he kissed me only once. Once. I’d do anything he asked, including drugs. This problem almost overtook me later in life, but didn’t. I’ll get there.
I am not sure why I craved the attention of boys so much. I think it was missing my Dad so often and having horrible self worth. I liked the attention, the sex, not so much; as I don’t think any girl really enjoys sex that young.
By high school, my parents had divorced and my brother and I lived with my Dad. We were both supportive of the divorce as my parents were fighting all the time.
My Dad was traveling constantly. My Mom ended up moving to Atlanta. I had a rotating door of nanny’s, baby sitters, and live-in’s who would quit all the time thanks to me and my defiance. My high school years almost killed me and my Dad. I left having not ever been arrested, pregnant, no STD, alive, and with my high school diploma. I have no idea how I pulled that off. It literally was by the grace of God.