He said, “I want you! And I want you now!”

I said, “Okay” under my blushing cheeks.

We got into bed and you tried to take my shirt off. But I wouldn’t allow it. I’m insecure about my body.

He said, “It’s okay, trust me. I really like you.”

I took off my shirt.

I took off my shirt and gave you a special part of me and you laughed at my body.

To this day I only kiss in the dark.

So neither of us can see me.

I hate my body.

From a very young age, I have had body image issues. Before my parents got a divorce, I was so tiny. Tan skin, blonde hair and blue eyes that would make the world seem brighter. My mother put me in pageants and I won. I was the jewel in my grandparents eye. I mean, who doesn't love a blonde hair blue eyed little boy? I was happy. Truly happy.

But after the divorce, things changed.

My parents would send my brother and me to Georgia for the summer and I would find myself lost in a world that didn’t want me, or so it seemed. Food became my comfort. Honey Buns to be exact. It's amazing what depression can force a kid to do. My grandma once said, at one point, I would talk to my food as it was my friend, and then cry after I ate. She said I befriend my food because, in my mind, no one wanted to be my friend, not even my parents.

For a long time, 10 years, I stayed at a big size. "Fatty" and "Faggot" became my new labels at school, and the depression only fueled my "hunger." My self-confidence took a blow. My life took a blow. I was drowning in a pool and no one would help the fatty in the deep end. I still remember the day I came home from school, a 200-pound fifth grader, huffing and puffing up the driveway. To this day, I can remember the sound of my grandfather voice saying, "That boy is as big as a side of a house." To this day, I remember crying in my room alone, because no one would ever love a fat boy.

That same fat boy finished middle school and went to high school and decided he had to change. I wanted love so bad, but because of society and media, I thought I would never find it; because I was "fat." So I lost the weight, became obsessed. I wouldn't eat, and I would work out for four to five hours a day. But man, it worked!

In a year and half, I went from weighing 245 pounds to 195 pounds. I looked good and I was happy. But remember the obsessed part, this is where that comes into play.

Spring of my senior year, I developed a heart condition. Even knowing that the doctors said to stop working out, I kept it up, but I suffered for it.

I lost another 35 pounds.

My heart was weak, but I looked good, or so I thought. My loved ones said I looked malnourished. I didn't look malnourished. I was malnourished. I was bulimic. No one knew but my best friend. However, let me tell you, at the time I thought it was worth it. My senior pictures looked AMAZING. And boys started to look at me and talk to me. I wasn't a " fat boy" anymore. I was skinny and I was going to find love.

Then I had two heart surgeries. And gained all of it back. 177 to 210 in a matter of 3 months.

Depression. Anger. Rage. Defeat. Hatred. Worthlessness.

I was back in the same place I hated. The "fat boy." You know, it's hard growing up in the 21st century with media telling you what you should be: a size 0 model with washboard abs and v cuts for days. And I was fat again. No one would ever want me again.

I found courage in darkness. If they couldn’t see me, I couldn’t see me, everything would be perfect, right?

Sex, my friends, is one of the best things life can offer, with the right person, but it can also be on of the most scarring event in one’s life.

Sex, for me, is a very spiritual thing. Two souls become one, even during a one-night stand. To me, you open yourself up for your partner to look upon you and to completely take you in. But what happens when the person you break your walls down for stabs you in the back?

We have all heard it, and we have all said it.

"Oh, he is really big. I couldn't be with him. He's just not my type."

"She would be pretty if she lost 15 pounds."

"Maybe if he would take the donuts out of his hand and replace it with a weight, he might be dating material."

Listen, words hurt. Media can hurt. But, when you are defenseless, laying in a bed, looking up to someone, body image can kill you.

When someone degrades you in the bedroom over your body, you never forget it. I remember lying on the floor after he left and crying. Words of hate and disgust ran through my head. When I finally got up and looked at myself in the mirror, I was so confused. This was not the person I knew. This was not the person I wanted to be. Weak. Ugly. Fat. Unlovable. To this day, I only "make love" in the dark. To this day I only lay down and connect with a shield on; a shirt.

"The need for acceptance and validation from sexual partners is so common these days. Adhering to someone else's likes and changing yourself to fit those standards is what makes our society so unsure. I believe in asking yourself for affirmation and validation because YOU are all that matters at the end of the day. Seeking Validation only makes you insecure. Love your body for what it is and someone will love you for who you are."
- Cydnie M. Smith- McCarthy

Why do we allow people to have that power over us? We are perfect in our own ways. Now, I'm not saying we should not strive to be the best version of ourselves, but only on our terms. Lose weight for you, not anyone else.

Not that every person is going to degrade you. Not every person is going to body shame you. There will be people that lift you up. For example:

I read this article called "30 Things Every Gay/Bi Guy Should Do Before Their 30's," and I've been slowly trying to go through the list just as a self-growth thing. One of the things said: "Date on Older Guy." And that's kind of what I did.

He was like living in a different world. He wasn't materialistic like my generation. He was more worried about what was inside than what was on the outside. As he kissed me and touched me I felt comfort. He took my shirt off and for the first time in five years, the lights were on. He kissed my body and told me how beautiful I was. I finally felt comfortable in my own skin.

"...I was so happy that I could accept my body...[but] I started to notice, yes I was desired, but not for the right reason. Only certain parts of my body were desired. My butt and my boobs. Go Figure. [However,] In order to maintain a standard of beauty, in my eyes, I HAD to have sex. It didn't matter with who as long as they were willing and listened to what I said."
- Anonymous, female age 19

With all this said, you have to find out how to love yourself before anyone will ever love you. You have to decide for yourself what brings you happiness.

I've learned that being 174 pounds did not make me happy. Being bulimic did not make me happy. Losing all that weight for love did not make me happy.

And please allow me to be the voice of reason: anyone who laughs at you or makes fun of you because of your body does not deserve to worship at your temple, does not get the honor of loving you, does not get to take part in your magnificent life. You should not have to be someone's "perfect," you should simply just be! And someone will love you for that.

One day, you'll get to pour your heart out to a man or a woman and finally feel loved and beautiful and truly accepted in the skin you live in. Screw what society says. Forget what the media shows. You are beautiful just the way you are. I know it's easier said than done, and I'm having problems taking my own advice, but try. Be happy. Be you.

I finally started to live my life for me. I'm happier and a little more comfortable in my own skin.

I no longer kiss in the dark.

I no longer hate my body.

I am on a path to be the best version of me.

For me.

and only me.

Because this my body. And I only have one.

Now, I wear a smile with it.

Find your smile and wear it.