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I knew that my mom went through similar experiences growing up as a skinny, Black girl from some of her vague stories she mentioned in an almost passerby manner. skijny
I remember a friend of mine who constantly pointed it out. You are so fucking perfect, so beautiful, and so worthy of every ounce of your adoration and love. I wanted to be there, even if for one student, to affirm them and to care. By the time I went to college, the scars of body shaming were still with me as I still felt deeply insecure, and even ugly, although I had clearly blossomed into a beautiful, young woman body dysmorphia is definitely a thing.
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But I chose to suffocate instead to the point that I began cutting myself and considering suicide. If anything, I just wanted a hug and a chance to cry without feeling like I was distracting her from more important things. On top of that, I was socially awkward as well. However, I was hoping that in that moment she would open up more as a means of connecting with me on common grounds.
Unfortunately, I grew up under the illusion ducmling being shy so I never had the courage to stand up for myself.
Throughout middle and high school, I dreaded going to school every day. The ones with a crooked smile or gap tooth. What happened? I finally got my braces taken off, my skin cleared uglt thanks to birth control, and I finally had a nice pair of D-cup titties that I was praying for as a late bloomer.
She snatched the phone from my hand and told my best friend to not mention things like that to me anymore. The girls with acne and hyper pigmentation.
The girls with big noses and full lips. The women that tear themselves a part every time they look in the mirror and the ones that avoid their reflection altogether.
Once puberty hit in high school, things got even worse as my usual flawless skin started developing hormonal acne. Sometimes I considered going to the school counselor about it——just to talk to someone so the feelings of self-disgust could stop eating away at me, so I could finally breathe again. The women that hate their hair.
Why do women love a plain jane?
On top of that, I had to wear braces for four years ygly adding to loooing ugly duck syndrome. During my senior year of high school, my ugly duckling phase began its transition into the beautiful swan. I can still remember the gut wrenching feeling induced by my best friend telling me the preps were talking about me in the locker room saying I looked anorexic. My heart breaks for how alone and vulnerable I felt which was actually one of the sparks that interested me in pursuing a career as a high school teacher.
I remember crying to my mom about what my classmates said about me.
Sometimes, even they would make jokes about my weight not knowing the extent of what I was dealing with at school. I was still thin, and I accepted that as my fate, but I started becoming more comfortable with petits because the boys that used to say I was too skinny were finally giving me attention.