Tits for Zits

I moved to Orange County in middle school and quickly learned how vapid and cruel wealthy, attractive teenagers can be.

I had never thought of myself as ugly until then.

On most days a group of boys would walk home behind me and shout hurtful things, my personal favorite being that I had traded tits for zits.

Fifteen years later, body dysmorphia accompanied by eating disorders, and countless hours staring at my face in the mirror wondering if I really am hideous, and their words still echo in my head.