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May 02, 2006
My Precious Bane.
If you were to enquire of my least and most favourable personality trait then anyone close to me would agree that I am one of the most stubborn people they know. If I decide I want something, I will stop at nothing to get it. My persistent obstinacy is my driving force, sometimes the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. Add to this the fact that nothing makes me crave something more than being told that I can’t have it and my stubbornness can suddenly become the bane of my life.
An example; French class - December 1991 - we have just received our mock GCSE results and the teacher is going round the class telling us how our percentage would translate as a grade. The girl next to me got 80%, congratulations, an A!
‘And Miss Elephant. What did you get?’
You know damned well what I got, you fucking battleaxe. You marked it.
‘Speak up!’
‘I said 21%!’
I can see her now, she was shorter than me and yet somehow she managed lean across my desk, look down at me and snigger. It was the only time I saw her smile. She shook her head,
‘No hope for you Miss Elephant. No hope.’
And that was it, she was already onto the next person.
So I went home and cried with humiliation and I cried a little more and then I heaved my head up from the pillow and went downstairs and told my mum that I wanted extra French lessons for Christmas.
I was not yet 16, I had my whole life in front of me and honestly believed that I could do anything if I truly set my mind to it. And all credit to my mum (who shares pretty much the same trait as me) when she found out the reason for my sudden penchant for languages, I got the extra lessons AND a Christmas present.
My final mark for GCSE French - an A but I nearly killed myself through overwork and some of my other grades suffered as a result and this is exactly what I mean when I say that my stubbornness can also be my bane.
My whole issue with getting old is that with each passing year I am forced to add something else to my long list of accomplishments that are never going to be realised. A few weeks ago we were watching the 100 metre sprint on the TV and I noticed that most of the athletes were a similar age to me, even younger.
‘I’m never going to be an Olympic gold medallist.’ I sighed.
‘But you never wanted to be one,’ he suggested before reminding me that we were watching the Commonwealth Games and not the Olympics.
‘Whatever it’s called. I want to be one, now it’s too late.’
‘Darling,’ he sniggered like my French teacher with perhaps just a little more affection, ‘You weren’t ever going to be an Olympic Medallist, gold or otherwise.’
And I didn’t go crying home to Mummy because I knew that even she’d admit defeat on this one. I could abandon everything, I could train every day for the rest of my life, I could swap one of my left feet for a right one, tame my clumsy flaying arms, get the next Messiah to work miracles on my lower back, whilst teaching me the difference between the Olympics and the Commonwealth, hell I’d even get anger management lessons so that I could bite my lip when the time comes to stand on that block and listen to ‘God Save the Queen‘, but I would STILL never win an Olympic medal. That gate is not only closed but the bolt is well and truly rusted into position - for time eternal.
So not only will I never have the opportunity to cultivate my sporting agility but I have to accept that it wasn’t going to happen anyway, not sixteen years ago, not now, not ever and with that acceptance comes a dull chipping away at my motivation not just for keeping fit but for everything else, both the good and the bad.
Bah! I never wanted to run anyway. That would involve getting off my arse. Pass me the coffee, the chocolate and the whisky, I can’t quite reach from here and while you’re there you might as well chuck us a couple of books and a pen.
Posted by purple elephant at May 2, 2006 10:33 PM