"You're f*cking disgusting."

One day on my way to school when I was eight years old, I was cornered by a very large 6th grader and his friends. He pushed me up against a brick wall, lifted my shirt, and squeezed my chubby stomach and little fleshy "man boobs." 

He said, "You're so fat. You're f*ckin' disgusting."

As my shirt dropped and the tears started, he wiped his hands on the front of my shirt. 

What stuck with me wasn't necessarily what he said; it was the look he gave when he wiped his hands on my shirt, and the laughs of his friends. 

The absolute humiliation I felt and the sudden awareness that I was "fat and disgusting" is something that has haunted my up until this day. I became a closet, compulsive eater and had bulimic tendencies. I topped out in 2007 at over 520 pounds. 

And even to this day, after a 300+ pound weight loss, I still hear his voice and see his face. Even though I have some recovery under my belt now, I still can't talk to people because I still think I'm disgusting, and don't want to burden them.