Advanced Essay #1: Pigeon Toes

Introduction: For my essay, my goal is to teach the reader that it is important to love every part of you no matter what people say. I am really proud of the descriptive language, and I feel as though the reader could formulate scenes into their head while reading this essay. There is always room for improvement, so I would like to get better at making my work very descriptive and use stronger words. I still remember the days I would force my feet to walk in a straight line. My face turned a shade of red when kids blatantly asked me why I walked the way I did in front of their friends. Grade school for me was one of the worst times of my entire life; it felt like I was submerged into darkness for eight years and I could not find the light. I tried everything I could to try to walk perfectly straight to the point where I wanted to break my own bones so they’d regrow flawlessly; I wanted to be perfect. Tibial torsion is not a disease nor is it uncommon as people dramatically paint it to be. It is something that happens in the womb; the child is in an awkward position in the uterus or it can even be genetically passed through the child. It is an inward twisting of the shin bones, causing the child to walk inward, or have “pigeon toes.” It drew unwanted attention from unwanted people making grade school one of the toughest times I have ever had to go through. Her name was Abby and she was the meanest person in the entire seventh grade. I still remember those dark hallways where I encountered her; all I wanted to do was go outside and reunite with my friends. “Why do you walk that way?” Those words hung into the air as my face turned a shade of red. Yes, it was a simple question but I thought if I ignored my issue it would disappear and I would finally be accepted. It felt like those bits of laughter from her friends were closing in on me. I immediately left and tried to surround myself with my friends. Going home that day was an atrocity; like a city under attack all in the midst of my mind. My insecurities overcame me and my mind turned a black, dusted color, and no light would shine through it. I was young; fourteen years old and had no sense of direction, especially to the path of happiness. I let myself become so wrapped up in this awful insecurity that it became me. I thought of myself as that girl who could not walk straight, and so did everybody else. I started to toughen up a little bit the next year in eighth grade. I knew if I became solid as a rock, nothing could pass through me, and what stayed sensitive remained behind closed doors. Instead of words, I turned to violence; if someone wanted to trigger my insecurity again, I was not going to suffer silently this time. My feet were planted into the ground, becoming one with the cement. A bunch of kids interrogated my peace bringing up that thing I never wanted to resurface. “Why do you walk like that? You look like a pigeon.” That time I did not shy away. I did not go home and cry rivers. Instead, I threw a punch to that kid on the arm. I let my emotions get too good of a hold on me terminating any words from coming out of my mouth. I tried to ignore it, yet it crept back. I resorted to violence instead of words and yet again it came back. I was running out of my options until a little bit of light dawned on me; I could just live with it and embrace what I have. It took many years to overcome my insecurity, but where I am now is where I want to be for the rest of my life. I am happy that I have come to terms with myself. It was freshman year, and I did not know anybody. I roamed crowded hallways in a sweltering uniform and attended unairconditioned classrooms. It was third period; physics, and that’s where I met my good friend. “Why do you walk like that?”. I immediately feel my face turning that rose color. She noticed that it made me uncomfortable, but the next sentences that came out of her mouth altered my view on myself. “No, what you have is really cool. I love those kinds of things, it’s what makes a person unique.” The rose color fades from my cheeks; I did not feel like I was under great mortification for once. I felt as though I was finally accepted and appreciated for the thing I thought was “wrong” about me. I felt content knowing this seemingly everlasting weight was finally lifted. Self-love is what I needed the most during those dark times. I needed to learn that you cannot be fully happy until you are content with the way you are. I realized that this was my body forever, so I should value what I have and come to peace with myself.