The Label I Wore



Today, most of my friends will probably describe me as an out going and somewhat talkative girl, displaying her boldness in study as well as various social activities. But several years ago,when I was in middle school, things were quite the opposite. Despite my outstanding grade record, I once belonged to a group that demanded little notice due to my childhood personality. People around labeled me as "timid", and that label, regardless of the so much bitter feeling it aroused, has become something of a lifetime influence on me.



As a child, I took after my mother and was quiet, shy and somewhat clumsy at verbal expression. The problem, as I often reflected upon, was not that I was unsociable or eccentric, for all of my classmates and teachers mingled well with me. It was that I would blush and feel dizzy when many people looked at me at the same time. I was so uneasy in public that I am inclined to shut my mouth, which sadly resulted in my label "timidity".



Bearing such a label was anything but easy for me to tolerate. Every time I finally plucked up enough courage to raise my hand and tried to air my view, I stood there only to find the rest fifty pairs of eyes fixing on me, all with the same trace of surprise and doubt in them as if a quiet person like me were not supposed to talk in public. Distress immediately seized me and I began to stutter, swallowed up my well contrived speech and retreated into my seat. I felt abased and hurt.



Never had I found the label so annoying and detestable as on those occasions. An inner voice again and again clattered in my brain:You＇re not inferior or dull. Why can＇t you just talk freely like the talkative? If you wanna have a change, it＇s up to you yourself. The biggest obstacle lay inside me. As long as I could overcome my timidity, the rest would take care of itself.



And in those years, never had I stopped this painstaking yet extremely
rewarding
shift
from
speechlessness
to
verbal strength. At the beginning, I prompted myself to give simple yes or no questions. In a step by step fashion, I was then supposed to talk in long sentences, to discuss and to present. Urged by an inner drive, I took pains with the transition and witnessed with the utmost joy the change I was going through.
For the first time, I didn＇t feel uneasy under public attention. For the first time, my response to teacher＇s question was applauded. I rejoiced in every bit of progress I made. Confidence began to set root in me and I, like a straying child who catches sight of home,was gradually led back to my mesmerized eloquence. I finally recovered what I had been craving for so long.



Now years have passed whe

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