You know what I envy? People that have supportive family and friends growing up. I wanted that so badly. I wanted to feel like I was good enough. Instead, I always got “you’ll be prettier when lose weight” or “look at your cousins, they’re so much skinnier than you.” A 6 year old shouldn’t hear that, they shouldn’t have to listen to their aunt call them pre-diabetic to another family friend all because that six year old wanted a cookie. Hearing “if you don’t stop eating that you’ll be an elephant,” at age 8 was hurtful. Being chased around the playground at 10 years being called a fat ass by a boy named Christian, whom would tell me to go kill myself, was harsh. I thought I’d grow out of it, that they’re just words. People would tell me that its all words, that it happened years ago so it shouldn’t matter anymore.
It does matter. It still does.
Because I sat in front of my bathroom mirror tonight for the first time in 13 years, crying. Looking at myself. Wishing that I wasn’t this way. Wishing I was as pretty as my cousins or skinny as friends. I wish those people who said all those things to me growing up, understand that their words still hurt me everyday. I wish they knew.
