"That looks like a cartoon."

As a kid I always loved painting, and when I got to middle school, I finally had a chance to take a real art class.

We were working on landscapes, and I decided to paint a mountain range based on a real photo. I was really proud of my work so far, and I was so happy to have a whole class period in school dedicated to this beloved hobby. 

The teacher came up to me and looked at my painting in disgust. She said, "That sky is ridiculous! Skies are not that deep blue in real life. They're light grey. Almost white. That looks like a cartoon."

I tried to tell her that I was going directly off the blue of the sky in the photo, but she insisted I change it.

To this day, twenty years later, whenever I see a deep, rich blue sky in real life, I still think of her. 

"Just don't stretch them out."

I had this friend in high school who would sleep over at my house a lot. One time she left a pair of leggings in my room, and I mistook them for mine, so I wore them to school one day. 

She saw me wearing them and asked if they were hers, and I realized that they were. I apologized, telling her she'd get them back. She told me it was okay, adding, "Just don't stretch them out." 

I've always had bigger thighs. And I never used to care a whole lot. But now I hate them in every pair of leggings I put on.

"Johnsons don't cry."

I grew up without much physical affection, so I was unusually attached to my first boyfriend. When I was 16 and we broke up, I couldn't accept the fact that this breakup would be our last of many. To me, the daily sex, hugs, and kisses were an addiction. I needed them to feel loved.

When I finally processed that this was final, I was sobbing in my room. My father - drunk, as was typical of him - might have thought he was comforting me when he saw me and said, "Forget him! Johnsons* don't cry."

After that moment, I was ashamed to cry. I was ashamed to show any emotion other than hostility. 

I'm 21 now. And I'm still not able to let myself cry. I fight the tears until I have mental breakdowns. My sadness now automatically converts to rage.

I have some joy and love, thanks to my fiancé, but I fear I'll never be normal again. I'll never be able to cry openly and easily.

Because Johnsons don't cry.

*Names have been changed. 
 

"You need this."

Growing up, I was never really big, but compared to my 5'4 120 pound mother, I was enormous. 

For Christmas in 5th grade, I received a beautiful box wrapped in red paper from my parents. I excitedly opened it in front of my entire family. It was the Richard Simmons Deal-a-Meal diet program. I was absolutely humiliated. My mother's only explanation was, "You need this." 

I look back on my childhood and I can remember the comments from them about how big my arms were and how fat I looked in my clothes. I remember my mom saying once that she didn't understand why I was so fat because I didn't eat any more than she did. These things stuck with me. I don't think my parents intentionally tried to hurt me, but their words are burned into my soul. 

I'm now 33 years old with a 10 year old daughter of my own. I go out of my way to build up my daughter and to let her know that she is perfect just the way she is.

"What IS it?"

As a kid, I had short hair, played sports, and was routinely mistaken for a boy. We moved when I was 10, and I started a new school. I kept wearing androgynous clothes and flattening sports bras. I was self-conscious not only of being the new kid with no friends, but of being one of the only kids wearing a bra. I had short, short hair and "boy clothes," but breasts. 

It wasn't until high school that I started dressing girlier and growing my hair out. In homeroom one day, a male classmate gave me an unsolicited compliment on my new look. 

He went on to describe how my appearance used to freak him out because he couldn't tell what I was. The clincher, though, that stuck with me? "I remember when you moved here...I was like, 'Is it a guy or a chick? What IS it?'"

I replied with a sarcastic joke, but in reality, most sentient beings probably wouldn't like being labelled as "it."

"I really don't have any interest in being a mom anymore."

My parents both came from pretty rough backgrounds and were raised by Depression Era parents. They were both the oldest of large families, so they had a lot of responsibilities. 

When I was 11, my mom said to me, "I raised my own siblings, and then your brother. I really don't have any interest in being a mom anymore." 

My parents still don't understand why I stopped telling them about awards nights and other school events, or why I dropped out of doing things. It was because I didn't think anyone cared. 

"Look, she's so fat!"

When I was in 7th grade, nobody knew me yet in my new classes. There was this guy who was known for being a douche, yet I still had a crush on him.

One day he and a friend were walking behind me, and I heard him say, "Look, she's so fat!"

A few months later, we were practically best friends in class. He called another girl fat, but I thought he was talking about me. When I asked, he said, "No! Why would I call you fat?" To which I responded, "You actually have before. Ages ago. You said it while you were walking behind me." 

He then spent the next seven minutes completely denying that he ever said this, that he didn't even know who I was at the time.  

That was the first time I that realized how easy it is for people to make comments that may be insignificant to them but everything to you. So insignificant that they don't even remember making them. So insignificant to him, but so scarring and formative for me. 
 

"Despite being fat, you dress very nicely."

I used to go to church with my grandma every week. One day when I was fourteen, I decided to dress up for church more than I normally did. I had recently gotten a new dress that I thought looked really nice, and I was excited to wear it. 

My grandmother's church friend came up to me and complimented my dress, which I was elated about. Then she said, "Despite being fat, you dress very nicely. I imagine it wouldn't be easy finding dresses in your size, so it's good you found one." 

She probably thought she was being nice and giving me a great compliment, but I was devastated. I ran into the bathroom and cried my eyes out. 

I had always been self conscious from bullies in school, but I think her comment was the worst.
 

"You'll never have a boyfriend."

My mom would often show my sister how to put on makeup and dress nicely. I would sit on the bed, outside the closed door, and listen. One day, I finally got up the nerve to ask them, "Hey, could you guys show me how to do that sometime?" My mom looked at me like I was crazy, and my sister asked, "Why should we? You'll never have a boyfriend." 

This was just another moment in a long list of times they had diminished me. But somehow, I didn't believe them. I mean, I thought it was possible that I might not be very attractive, but I thought that there was somebody for everybody, right?

I met my husband when I was 29. We married when I was 32. I'm 60 now. Our life together has been like a romance novel. He's a wonderful, amazing, lovely man with a Scottish accent and a kind heart. We've had our share of hard times, but somehow we have laughed through it and hung on to each other. 

Everyone in my family acts amazed that I was the one that ended up with the wonderful, stable and happy marriage. They are all jealous of the daily love letters and the way he takes special care of me. 

What stuck with me was that even though those unkind words were spoken to me, I simply chose not to believe them. I did struggle with low self esteem a bit, but it didn't stop me from enjoying life! 

Harsh words lose their power when you just decide, "I'm not going to get angry. I'm just not going to believe that."
 

"I told you that I would be the pretty one."

My cousin and I were inseparable our whole lives. She was always beautifully curvaceous, and I was always stick thin. Her dad use to fat shame her, telling her that she had to look like me to ever be loved. 

Fast forward to this year when I was pregnant (but hadn't told anyone yet) and she was starving herself for her new beau. She called me and said, "I told you that one day you would be the fat one and I would be the pretty, skinny one." 

She even encouraged her boyfriend to make fun of my weight.