Wilkins,

Baylee Wilkins
Mrs. Rutan
Creative Writing
30 October 2015

The Top Three Moments In My Life That Have Sucked

But Taught Me Many Valuable Things
There are moments in lifeand everyone has themthat can only be described with one
word. Now, these snip-its of time are actually very important to the human experience; as my
grandma would say, They build character. There are thousands of moments that make up our
lives, but these moments, these are the ones that count. They make us who we are, change our
opinions, and build character: these are the moments that just plain suck.
I have had a few upsetting, embarrassing, challenging moments so far in life, and they have
helped me become who I am today... Even though they sucked at the time. These are my top
three moments.

1. I found out I was despised by an entire species.

That's rightdespised. I was 10 years old and went to visit my step-mom's grandma for the first
time. She had four cats, and said her sweetest one was Johnny. He was a cute, little black and
white fluffy one that skittered off when anyone came too close. After a couple days of staying
there, I got up in the morning and walked to the living room. I didn't see Johnny hiding under a
cabinet, and when I walked past him he reached out his little cat paw to gash me. The little sh*t
tried to claw me! Without even saying hello, he hated me.
That was the moment I gave up on cats.

Since then, no other cat has attempted to be my friend. I'm sure it's because I give off the
dog person vibe, which I do intentionally.
Cats, in the general term, are ungrateful jerks. They aren't happy when you come home.
They aren't happy when you feed them. They refuse baths, they don't have time to cuddle or play
with you, and they puke more than any other creature on Earth. Maybe if they'd take a freaking
bath they wouldn't have to swallow their hair to get clean.
That moment with Johnny made me realize that cats are only good for adding to the dcor
of the home, but what's the point if you can't ever even find them?
I'm sure one day my husband will sucker me into getting one, but until then I'll take a dog
any day.

Wilkins,

2. I realized that I do not have heroic abilities.

This moment happened through a whole semester of weight lifting. I found out some
very vital information about my physical abilities.

1. I can't bench my own weight. I think I got to about 90 lbs, which is about

10 lbs short of my own weight. This is concerning because what if,

someday, I need to lift something off myself to breathe? Or to save a
person? For now, I guess I hope there is some big, strong, (and hopefully
very handsome) man around to help.
2. My dead-lift (lifting weights from the floor up to your waist) is sub-par. I

could lift about 165 lbs with all of my strength. My only worry isagain
what if I need to lift something heavy to carry it? Like, let's say, a
person? It's called dead-lift for a reason, so I will have to hope for
enough adrenaline to power a Ford pick-up truck if I hope to accomplish
anything.
3. Seriously, I can't jump. We tried several different jumping drills in my

class, and my results were quite consistent.

Jump rope- 10 jumps per minute with an average of 18

trips.

Fast-paced hopscotch- fell down.

Different form of hopscotch- fell down so awkwardly I

twisted my ankle and had to crawl away in front of the
class of muscular teenage boys.

4. I run like a drunken turtle. Im very slow for my sizeand my feet like to

box with each other so I stumble over nothing but my own clumsiness.

In the end, one might ask, Well why did you sign up for weight training? Well, my
friend, it was a lot like roller-skating for the first timeeven though you know youll fail,
there is something enticing about trying something out of ones comfort zone. And yeah, I
thought it would be nice to gain a little muscle. So my weight-training experience really
amounts to one thing: during an apocalypse, I would be literally zero help to anyone, and
would probably be the first to die. At the end of weight training, I thanked myself for
never aspiring to be a physical threat.

Wilkins,

3. Basically, the entire world of sports is not a fan of me.

In connection with my lack of physical strength, I also lack in athletic abilities. The
world's sport is soccer. Everyone loves it; South Americans, Europeans, Canadians, they all love
their foot-fairies. No matter how many people I am offending though, soccer truly is the most
horrendous sport.

In third grade, my gym class was playing indoor soccerwhich really should be
outlawed in schools as a form of tortureand I was leisurely playing defense. At this time in my
young life I probably weighed about 75lbs. So, you can imagine my horror as the largest boy in
my grade, weighing in at least 100lbs, came my way. With a foot the size of a grown mans, The
Hulk kicked the ball at me. I guess nine-year-olds dont have flight vs. fight responses, because it
was as if I wanted to get hit; my arms splayed out eagle-style, I stood there and waited. I'm not
sure what I was thinking as I watched the giant green soccer ball whirl toward my face, but
obviously I was not thinking move. Tears came from shock, and then the pain. Pain like a
hammer had used my nose as a nail. I was sure my nose had collapsed into my face, and they'd
have to make me a new one.
Fortunately, all that happened was a bloody nose. Unfortunately, my nose bled for several
hours, and the school sent me home.
Here, one might say, Gee, I still don't know why she doesn't like soccer! Lucky for you,
dear Reader, I have more.
Two years later, I was excited for my first day of fifth grade, which meant middle school.
When I found my gym class, we went outside to play soccer. Already knowing my skill-set in
this sport was practically non-existent, I stuck to defense. This time, I saw it coming. A girl who
seemed much too muscular for eleven came up to me with the ball. Immediately, I sized her up:
she was scary, I was small; she knew how to play and I didnt. So naturally, I fell back into my
usual response to a soccer ball: deer in the headlights.
With reflexes slower than roadkill, I stood there and watched the ball hit above my
eyebrows. I have no recollection of the following few moments. I woke up what seemed to me
only a minute later to find that my class had left the soccer field and was walking back inside the
school. I got up onto my feet slowly, feeling like I had been hit by a truck, whispered obscenities
at the goal postswhich gave me an air of defianceand marched myself back inside with a
hexagon shape imprinted on my forehead.
That was the year I quit playing every sport, and earned a reputation of being clumsy.

Wilkins,

These moments in my life have sucked; they made me feel rejected, useless, and embarrassed.
Of course I don't love being hated by all felines, but that gave me an opinion about
animals at an early age. Knowing they hate me will make my decision for a first pet that much
easier, so thank you, Johnny.
Since I took weight-training, I am very aware of my abilities. So someday when a
struggling person says, Hey, can you help me lift this? I can say confidently, Sure! And I'll
run down the street to get that hot construction worker.
Finally, after my issues with soccer, I made a discovery: contact sports are a no-go for
me. Starting the following year after my last soccer incident, I took up golf. That's rightthe
least competitive, no-contact, slowest sport there is. And I loved it!
From every bad experience, there is a lesson to be learned. I would say that I have easily
learned mine.