Goes to show that the culture of victimhood isn’t limited to Northern U.S. cities.
I say, don’t get mad, get even. I was big and fat when I was a kid and I did get picked on - but eventually, I would catch someone who had done it alone and they would pay a “heavy” price. Back in that day, no one would go cry to Mommy about this sort of thing, bully or victim - it was like being in the Mafia or in prison.
I had a most enjoyable experience when I was in high school - I found out that a kid who picked on me when I was a kid and washed my face out with snow (more than once) had transferred to that school. I had since grown about 7 inches taller, lost some weight, and had turned at least some of the remaining fat into muscle - and he didn’t get much taller at all. I can still hear the satisfying sound of the metal locker door wrapping around his head as the rivets holding the hinges popped out...yes, he survived.