Oh the terrible memories! Em Rusciano just got invited to her 20 year high school reunion

You’ve got this Rusciano, you can do it.
Hurt and humiliation went hand-in-hand with high school for me.
I was a hirsute, flat chested, short haired kook.
My peak low point was the school swimming carnival in Year 8. I’d put on my green Speedos in the locker room and to my horror noticed my armpit hair could no longer be tucked away and held in place with sweat and impulse merrily musk. It looked like I had two Guinea pigs nestling in either pit.
As I desperately tried to rip them out with my bear hands a girl named Kristy* walked into the change rooms and caught a glimpse of the situation under my arms.
Reeling back in horror she exclaimed: “OH MY GOD! THAT’S GROSS!”
She then backed out of the change rooms at an impressive pace and ran towards the pool. I didn’t know what to do.
I was mortified. Of all the people to see me it of course had to be her. Kristy had the kind of perky DD tits that made watching her do the backstroke a religious experience. She was the hottest girl in a three grade radius.
I knew she’d be gathering an army, as teenage girls are prone to do. As I stood alone and frightened in the dunnies, I imagined her describing the black forest within my person to every kid she came across. I knew she’d be rallying the troops against me, whipping them into a hateful frenzy.
Then, after 10 or so minutes, I had my answer. Over the loudspeaker I heard: “Could Em HAIRYano please report to the pool deck, your 50m freestyle event is about to start. Em HAIRYano”.
If spontaneously combusting from embarrassment were a thing, I would have.
I only keep in contact with two people from high school. One of them is my piano player and music director Jeremy (who was once picked up by the legs and run crotch first into a steel pylon) and the other is my best friend Michael, who also went through a similar kind of torture only he was a tubby, closeted, theatre nerd.
We were quite the pair — just look at us!
I’ve not seen my tormentors in 20 years. I’m well aware that most of them won’t remember how horrible they were to me. In fact, I know that’s the case as sometimes they contact me to say ‘hey’ and congratulate me on how well my life seems to be going.
I’m also aware that perhaps I have built it up to be far more than it actually was. At the time though, it was my entire world.
Obviously my first reaction to the invitation was a dream montage in which Michael and I re-enact
Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion
. We’re both much hotter now (which let’s be honest, isn’t a great accomplishment) and doing pretty well all things considered. I’ve a wonderful career, husband and kids. Michael has a critically acclaimed film, lost 20kg and written high rating TV shows.
So I decided that I would go, maybe I needed to face these people as adults, as equals, and put it all behind me: I’m 36 now, it’s probably time.
I’d even started workshopping outfits that looked effortlessly chic that hopefully said “hey I’ve aged well, look immaculate and I am now able to forgive you despite the relentless bullying you put me through”. But then late last night I actually checked the date and realised I couldn’t go! I would be on stage in Brisbane performing my stand-up show which ironically, some of, is about high school.
I realise that if high school was a happy time for you, if you were fortunate enough to be popular then this may seem like a dramatic over-reaction.
But if you were one of us, the marginalised, the teased, the not cool enough, then you will understand my pain. I also know that because of what happened to me in high school, I am the person I am today, all the good and bad parts.
I was certainly forced to develop a sense of humour as a coping mechanism. The burning desire to prove myself to those people has driven me mad and to success in equal measure.
To 13-year-old Em HAIRYano, you’ve got this babes. It all turns out OK — laser hair removal will become your best friend.