Thursday, December 13, 2012

I Only Remember the Bad Things

When I was 3, I was first called fat at nursery school by a boy in my class, I remember what I was wearing that day (overalls and a pink shirt) and how I first become aware of my body.

When I was 4, I overhead my grandma telling my dad that she was concerned I would have a weight problem for the rest of my life and he should put me on a diet.

When I was 5, a girl in my kindergarten classed asked me why I was "so big" and I went home and cried.

When I was 7, my mom told me to stop eating pretzel rods because I was becoming a piggy and I went to my room and thought about how I eat too much.

When I was 10, the boys rated the girls in my grade on face, body, and personality.  I got an 8 for face, a 2 for body, and a 10 for personality.

When I was 11, the boys one year older than me nicknamed me ogre.  They chanted it to me (about 25 of them) at lunch time and screamed it in the halls.  My dad went over to the 2 ringleaders homes' and confronted them after months of it when I stopped eating, sleeping, or wanting to go to school.  I never spoke to most of those boys for years to follow, I was afraid of them.  I still have nightmares about this. Being circled by a bunch of pre-pubescent boys and being chanted out because of my body was by far one of the most hurtful things that has ever happened.  It never really went away all through junior high and high school, I was still referred to as ogre by some until the boys a year ahead of me went to college.

When I was 14, I overhead a boy I had a crush on telling his friend that he knew I liked him and he just couldn't get over how big I was.  I was a size 8 and 5'8".

When I was 16, a boy I used to make out with told me to lose weight.  I did.  He then asked me out.

When I was 17, the boys in my grade dared the boy I liked to touch my butt because it was apparently so big and disgusting that it required a dare.

When I was 18, I dressed up for Halloween and got mistaken for a man.  I still hate wearing wigs because of this.

When I was 20, I found out that a person I considered a friend had a secret nickname for me that involved a hippo.  I joined WeightWatchers the next day.

When I was 25, I dated a man with serious mental issues who told me I was obese.  I was 30 pounds thinner than I am now.

When I was 27, I ran into a guy from high school who seemed interested in me, until his friends asked me if I had a penis because apparently at almost 5'10" (really 5' 9" and a half), I am such a freak of nature that I seem like a man, even though I am actually quite feminine (I always feel bad when people make fun of Khloe Kardashian, my body is like hers and I would so be made fun of if I was famous!).

When I was 28, I dated Awful and he encouraged me to have plastic surgery on my stomach because I had rolls and stretch marks on my abdomen. I went ahead with it because I was scared if I didn't, he would break up with me.

When I was 31, I fell in love with some special...myself!  I stripped myself down naked and stood in front of the mirror and realized that I have a lot to be happy about.  My curves are beautiful, my height is statuesque, and my breasts are adorable.  Then, I fell in love with an incredible man who loves every single inch of me and makes me feel so beautiful, always.

Don't feel bad for me.  People often tell me wonderful things about me, the compliments far outweigh the insults.  I just chose to never hear the positives and got stuck focusing on the negatives until recently and the only person at fault here is me because I let the opinions of others influence the way I lived my life and the choices I made.

Now, I process, acknowledge, and accept compliments and go deaf to the insults.

People who insult are simply looking for love.....the kind of love that only comes from loving yourself.

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