You were chubby. You were ugly. And I hated you to the core.
You didn’t have many friends, and you were different from the rest. I never thought I could ever love someone like you, let alone watch anyone else love someone like you. Disgusting.
Maybe I started hating you in middle school, maybe I always had, but I didn’t realize it until I looked in the mirror and started to pick myself apart because of the images in the media, or hell, just by comparing myself to the girls I went to school with. Writing this, I’m still full of disgust. Not because I hate you, but because I used to. I’d never disliked someone as much as I felt about you.
I was chubby. I was ugly. And I hated myself to the core.
I didn’t have many friends, and I felt too different to ever fit in. I never thought I could love myself, let alone have anyone else fall in love with me. I hated myself more than anything.
The first time I looked in the mirror to realize that the words people said were true, I broke down. Realizing I was everything they said: fat, ugly, a “loner,” weird. I felt alone, not realizing my friends and well, the sad truth, every middle school girl felt the same. Every single girl I’ve became friends with over the years went through the same pain, the same torment, that I had experienced.
Self-hate.
It generally doesn’t start out with a girl looking in the mirror and deciding she’s a waste of space. Nope, it starts with the media. Hundreds and thousands of models all over the world who are prettier, skinnier, successful. It starts with the girls whispering, “She’s a lesbian, look at how she looks at other girls in the locker room,” “She’s so ugly. Look at her glasses,” “She’s so fat. I can’t believe she’s wearing that,” “She’s so weird. Why is she talking to me?” It starts with the boys’ weird looks, not like they don’t feel just as insecure.
It progresses. The girl looks in the mirror and decides she’s a waste of space. She is confused about her sexuality, she finally sees, yeah, she’s ugly, she’s fat, she’s weird. And she hates all that she is.
She starts to harm herself in different ways. Thoughts about suicide: she’s not worth the time and space she’s using up. She cuts herself: it’s not for attention, she just feels words don’t hurt her enough anymore. She has to punish herself somehow. She starves herself: other girls do it, maybe now she can fit in.
Self-hate.
Her parents and friends start to notice that she’s been acting strange. Between isolation and the visible differences: long sleeves on nice days, light meals. They talk to her and she denies everything, hiding behind her blurry eyes. But they know.
Self-hate.
Years pass and she’s a little better, but she still hates the person she used to be. How could she be so stupid to listen to the words of others?
Self-hate.
So stupid. She’s so freaking stupid.
Self-hate.
Maybe that’s what got her here, though. Maybe she wasn’t so stupid. Maybe she was just lost.
Self-hate?
Why waste time trapped in the past? It got her here. And here is pretty cool and she is pretty awesome.
Self-love.
She’s beautiful in every way, she may be weird, but her friends find that pretty amazing. And weight is nothing because she feels confident in the skin she wears.
She goes shopping with her friends and laughs now more than ever. She found some jewelry that she never would have worn when she hated herself. She never thought she was pretty enough to wear things like that. It’s ridiculous, but now she decides it’s just her style.
She liked it, so she put a ring on it.
