Group Therapy

The class bell rings and we all pile into the small class room above the gymnasium. When I was popular I used to come up here and make out with the foreign exchange girl from China. But look at me now, in this tiny classroom sitting in a circle with the rest of the losers about to share my feelings. How did I fall so far?

Ms. Rosser, the school counselor, comes in seconds later and greets the lot of us. She’s always so chipper. I’ve never seen anything less than a smile from her and it’s a good thing because looking around the room. There’s at least one crybaby and nobody here has balls bigger than a Skittle. But despite being lumped in here with the dorks, it's better than Home Economics with Ms. Sutton. Home Ec just isn’t for me, the food never has enough flavor.

“Ok you guys we have a couple of newcomers so today, we’re just gonna take it easy and just discuss how we feel when people don’t like us, or when we get removed ok.” Ms Rosser says with a big smile and sip of her yeti. Look at em. They’re all a bunch of pussies. “Oh they’re picking on me!” Oh brother! Cry me a river. These new millennials can’t go three feet into the world without crying about how somebody feels about them. Get over it! Grow a pair! It’s hard to suppress these thoughts running through my mind as the first kid gets up to speak his peace. He’s a chubby one. I mean honestly this kid is shaped like a basketball with arms and legs. I see why everyone would pick on him, hell I know this is group therapy but I’m having a hard time not picking on him myself.

“I just wanna know what I did to make them hate me so much.” He says, holding his face. And there it is. The water works. I didn't think it would take much but geez kid you just got started. How long have you been holding in those tears? I know this is supposed to be a safe space but I can’t help but laugh a little. But I do love it when they cry. It’s the perfect chance to look down Ms. Rosser’s blouse when she comes to console them. She leans over to give them a big hug or a back rub and that pair of bubble tits just makes me wanna put on a bib and call out Mama! Yea these meetings are pretty pointless for an old timer like me but I would come 8 days a week to get a look at them tig ole bitties.

Now the poor kid is inconsolable. His whole body jiggles like jello as he sobs. At this point it just seems like low hanging fruit to keep talking about him. “I just want people to like me.” He says between the tears. This is painful to watch.

Fifteen minutes. It took fifteen minutes to calm the chubba wubba down and get things back on track. The next kid to take the floor, looks like he is cosplaying Urkel. The glasses, the suspenders, a checkered shirt, and khakis that kiss his ankles; the whole nine. It’s like he woke up and offered everyone in the world a chance to write “kick me” on his back. I know appearances aren’t everything but you’re really not doing yourself any favors here kid. “I used to believe that I was a bad person. But then I began observing and running tests. After careful examination of the facts I have determined that my likeable factor is a matter of personal preference. While there are those who don't mind me being present, there are others who won’t even acknowledge my existence and dismiss me before I can say hello. Of course the sample size ultimately determined my p-value in this retroactive study. I still find my conclusion to be one of great significance not only to myself but to all of us here today.” Urkel 2.0 says. Did this guy just come up with a scientific experiment to determine why he’s bullied? Ha, I’ll give you three guesses kid. I don’t even need a calculator to figure out how long it’ll take him to get his ass kicked when we leave here. He’ll be stuffed into a locker and pulling out wedgies before lunch.

“Ok, who would like the honors of going next?” Ms. Rosser asks, and a tall skinny girl raises her hand. Her “got milk?” shirt hangs off her body and she is nothing but skin and bones. Well mainly bones if anything else. She’s so thin if she rubs her hands together she could start a fire. Her skin is as white as looseleaf and when she stands there is a gurgling sound coming from her stomach. She clears her throat and begins. “I think that if people really got to know us they would know we don’t mean to hurt anybody. And that we are all good and special in our own way.” Listening to her makes me want to break out the ukulele and start singing Kumbaya. Like tell me you’re a tree hugger without telling me you’re a tree hugger. She’s definitely the type to want to meet up after this for some trauma bonding. I think I would rather wipe my ass with sandpaper.

“Can I go? Can I go? Can I GO!” Asks the strung out love child of ADHD and ketamine. He’s a short little runt with wild, bird nest, red hair. He’s shaking like a leaf and has a really bad nervous tick. He’s the kinda kid that would shit himself if a balloon popped behind him. Damn I wish I had a balloon. “Well, w-w-w-w-well. I think that we should let-let-let-let the people who hate us know that-that-that we still love them and there are no hard feelings.” he says with a sigh of relief at the end. Poor guy barely made it out the other side of that one.

“Now lets see. We’ve heard from high fructose corn syrup, gluten, dairy, and artificial sweetener. MSG do you want to share with us today?” Ms. Rosser asks me. I really hadn’t planned on saying anything today but what the hell. I stand from my chair and clear my throat.

“I mean, what can I say? I’ve been coming to Ms. Rosser since before you guys were even a thought in a chef’s head. Back in the day I used to be in everything and everywhere. Then somebody just labeled me a bad ingredient. And there it was, my fall from grace. You guys know how it goes. It’s a real shame how they do us so dirty in the blink of an eye. We’ve been in their diets forever! And it just takes one little study or new fad diet and we end up here. But don’t let it get you down, we just gotta get thicker skin. Everybody won’t be for you, and you won't be for everybody. There are those who will hate you for who you are and what you do but you just gotta keep being you. They might kick us out of a lot of foods, but never let them forget we exist!”

I take my seat and relish in the smiles around the room. I figured with all the sob stories these guys could stand to hear something positive and uplifting. “Uhm excuse me.” A cute voluptuous young lady says, poking her head into the classroom. “Hi I’m Growth Hormone and I’m new here and I’m a bit lost. Is this the group therapy for bullied ingredients?”

-End