Like every other Tuesday at 3 p.m., I walked into work, clocked in, and put my jacket in the closet before going to the choice board to see where I would be headed today. As I entered the kindergarten room one of the boys said, "You're late, Ms. Angela!" and I laughed because he had thought I was coming in at 2 p.m. like I had the day before. We walked our way down to the gym, where I would stay for the remainder of the day playing baseball with the older kids. The kindergarteners left and the older kids entered, ate their snack, and of course, made a mess eating it.
As I was telling children to pick their Goldfish up off the gym floor, and throw away their water cups, I saw two boys pointing at me and giggling. "Do you have something you'd like to say to me?" I asked.
"No." They replied in unison as they were calling another one of their friends over.
I turned my back and listened to them whisper, "Miss Angela has a beard."
I looked at them. "You do realize that I can hear you? And that it's incredibly rude to talk bad about people, especially your elders."
They were silent. "I have a beard because I have a hormone disorder. There's a chemical imbalance in my body that causes this to happen. I didn't choose it," I continued, somewhat sassily.
Again, silence. The oldest of the boys apologized to me and they went on their merry way to go play dodgeball.
For the rest of my day, I was really down and upset. I like to pretend that I don't have a chronic illness that people cannot simply recognize it by looking at my body. I like to pretend I am the average 21-year-old woman, struggling to get through college. Like every other person who has poly-cystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS), I like to pretend that I don't have excessive body and facial hair, that I won't randomly pass out in pain from cramps, or a cyst deciding to be grumpy at me that day, that I don't have to worry about things in my future -- like diabetes, infertility, and endometriosis. When someone points out that I am different, it hurts. It is like I am on the island of misfit toys, and no one wants to play me with because I look different than the average doll.
I do not want to be labeled as different or as sick so not many people know that I have PCOS. Just because my body functions in an abnormal way, does not mean I am any less beautiful or smart than you are. Just because I am overweight, doesn't mean I am not trying to lose weight. And just because I have a chronic illness, does not mean that I am sick and helpless.
You never know what someone is going through. I'm sure plenty of people have seen me on a bad day when I didn't have time to make myself look like a presentable human being, but they know better than to point out my flaws. Sometimes things happen that are beyond our control and, as a responsible adult, you try your best not to judge.
I have family, friends, and a boyfriend who love me for who I am. They love my personality -- sass and sarcastic comments, included. They love my laughing at the dumbest things. And they love that I am passionate about science and that I am using my passion to pursue a degree that will allow me to do research with PCOS -- to help find a cure to help myself and everyone else like me.
I am different, but I am not letting that stop me from living life as who I want to be.
