Bullying, in many Guises

I have been bullied in my life.  I have been bullied by family, friends, lovers, work colleagues and total strangers.
My sisters bullied me, though some of them more than others, after all I had 5 to have a go at me.  The thing with my sisters is I guess most of the time it was more because I was younger and probably annoyed them somewhat.  There are a few instances I  can recall, and they were not just because I was annoying.  My sister closest to me in age and myself were more often than not picked on at the same time.  I remember one day, the sister (oh stuff it, i'm gunna use names) named Maree, was upset with Janet and myself.  I can't remember what we had done.  It was obviously something pretty major.  Maree chased us outside and began chasing us around the washing line.  The line wasn't a Hills Hoist.  It was a very long run of wire, attached to poles either end.  We were screaming and calling out to mum, who may I say, sensibly stayed away.  Maree had found a length of pipe. The pipe was heavy steel.  She was waving it around her head and telling us what she was going to do to us if she caught us.  We were terrified, and we finally managed to escape indoors and we bolted the door.  We told mum what happened and I guess she had words with Maree because later on she came up to Janet and myself and said she was really sorry, and she was actually crying.  Being two young loving sisters, we forgave her.
In the school ground, there are so many different things going on, that when bullying happens it's  everything hard to see it.  Some kids were very clever and made it look like nothing was amiss.  I remember my sister Janet was bullied when we moved into town.  My sister had freckles.  Well we all did, so I have no idea why they picked on her.  They called her Measles.  I guess because of those freckles,  One girl inparticular.  Her name was Lynette.  She had her cronies, and they were all nasty.  My sister wore some new socks to school and this bitch Lynette picked on her all day, saying they were boys socks.  Well my sister cried and it was horrible.  She loved to go on the monkey bars and she was good at going along the whole thing real quick.  We had begun doing the new trick on the small bar.  The small bar is one bar.  You don't climb up or anything.  You just jumped with your arms raised and hoped you reached.  Any way you hook one leg over the top and you reach under and wrap your hands around your ankle.  So you have the bar going through your leg. Then you swing back and forth until you get momentum, and then you go round and round and round.  Janet was very good at this and was having her go when Lynette and her pack of dogs turned up and started being really mean,  My sister got upset and lost her concentration and fell off.  She lay there on the ground, then she started shaking.  It was horrible and I was so scared I thought she was dying.  Someone got a teacher, and they carried Janet into sick bay.  That bitch and her dogs had disappeared.  I bet she was scared too.  Well Janet was taken home and I remember my dad was really angry.  I can't remember my dad getting angry much, but this was one out of the two or three times I can recall.  I think he wanted to go see Lynettes father, but mum calmed him down and he didn't go.  Pity really. She left my sister alone for a while and when she began again she was sort of timid, as if she didn't want to do it but had to, to save face for her pack.  I remember kids called me monkey face,  I could never understand that cos I just didn't see it.  I'd look in the mirror and pull faces and make noises but still could't see a monkey looking back at me. I wonder what those people are doing as a career these days.  Maybe they are in advertising.  Come on, THINK ABOUT IT!!!!!!
I did my bit of bullying too, I admit.  At our Primary School, there was a building where, what we used to call, special kids went.  They are what we call challenged these days.  There were two girls who used to always be together.  One was a loud show off, and her friend was quiet and sweet.  One day my friend and I sat down beside them in the playground. I can't remember how we began but the quiet one began to count for us.  She counted to nineteen.  When she said twenty, she pronounced it tenty.  We laughed and laughed.
we thought it was so funny.  Teny one, tenty two tenty three etc.  We called others over and got her to count again, and again, laughing at her all the time.  Looking back, I think it was disgusting and I wish I'd never done it.  She didn't seem to realise we were being horrible to her.  She was obviously proud that she could count and was happy to show us all.  I do regret that stupid act of mine. Although I didn't make her cry, didn't hurt her pysically, I still acted like a bully and a jerk.  Bullying isn't always obvious.
Catching the school bus, and being the last people to get on, we were unable to get a seat.  Standing up in the aisle was fraught with it's own dangers.  We would have to hang on to something and the easiest thing was the back of the seat.  The rail that ran along the top of the seat.  Sitting in the seat where I had my hand, was a boy called Egg head.  I guess that was his real name cos I never heard him called by any other name.  Well he thought it would be fun to pinch the back of my hand.  The first time he did it I said ouch or something.  On the way home he did it again, only harder.  It really hurt, and I moved my hand.  The next day, I'd forgotten and got on the bus as usual.  Well obviously he hadn't forgotten.  As soon as I held onto the seat rail, he pounced. Pinching away.  I didn't react this time.  I thought stuff him.  I could put up with the pain.  It was only a pinch.  All the way to school he held on.  I think he must of gotten sick if doing it too.
When we got to school, I told the bus driver what was happening.  He said he'd talk to him.  I was not aware at my age that to speak to someone about it, could maybe make things worse.  That afternoon, we all climbed aboard the bus and the bus driver stood up and said " I have been told there have been things going on that I want stopped.  You know who you are and what I mean."  I thought that would be the end of it.  Egg head didn't touch me and I thought great.  The next day, I wasn't worried so I climb on the bus.  A few seconds after we were driving along, he pinched me!  What a shit.  Not only did he pinch me, But he then began to twist the pinch.  God it was like I was being burnt.  The skin on the back of our hands is not very thick and we have no fat, so my nerves were screaming with the pain.  I didn't flinch.  I remember I turned around and looked at him, and smiled. I didn't look away, and smiled this smile that I hoped said, "hahaha, you are an idiot.  That doesn't hurt. pinch me all you like, I can't feel it"  Which was true.  By this time, he'd been pinching and twisting the skin for so long, it had gone numb.  He let it go and I left my hand on the rail, until my bus stop came up.  The next day, Nervously I climbed on the bus, got to my usual spot, put my hand on the rail, expecting to be pinched.  Nothing.  All the way to school, I expected it to begin, but it didn't.  When we got to school, I gathered my courage and looked to see if he was actually there on the bus.  Yep he was there but I think I had actually beaten him at his own game. I do remember the rather red swollen area on my hand that lingered for most of the day.  This bullying style is what I call the silent style.  During this episode, egg head didn't utter a word. He would just stare at me and silently pinch away.