On another note...gym class. For some reason the subject has been floating around my brain lately. Gym class may have very well given me every complex I have ever had. And not even the cliche highschool gym class where you have to climb vertitically up a rope. By that age I was smart enough to get a psychologist's note excusing me for almost all four years. No, I'm talking elementary school. I think it's about time I had a corrective emotional gym class experience to reverse the damage done. And I'm not even exaggerating. It was awful. We used to have to do those team ativities where we all got each other over a wall or into a net, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never do it. It would go on for thirty minutes, with the other kids fakely cheering me on, and trying to hoist my fat ass up a wall that was just too high for me. Try consoling the hurt that occurs in a 7 year-old's heart when the class gives up on her once again, focusing their hate on the fat kid who keeps ruining the class record.

Once my elementary school gym class was trying to help me over a rope, and despite my feeble protests, they wouldn't let up. So I tried it, and for once I actually started to succeed, only to accidently bring a 20 foot steel pole down on the head of one of my classmates. Everyone really hated me then.