"You should try to look more like her."

Freshman year of college, my extended family came over to our house for the Passover Seder. I had definitely gained the Freshman 15, but I didn't really feel bad about it or give it much thought. 

I was standing and talking to my younger cousin, who is rail thin. My great aunt came over to us, tried to pinch my cousin's stomach but couldn't, then turned to me and said, "Oh, sweetie, doesn't your cousin look great? You should try to look more like her."

I immediately excused myself to go into another room, and completely broke down and cried. My cousin, who is one of my best friends to this day, came in to find me. She told me how awful that experience had been, and assured me that our aunt was insane. 

I still think about that moment often. At every family gathering I become extremely self-conscious, just waiting for the criticism to come.

Holocaust Girl

"You look so thin, you could be a holocaust survivor!" 

Said to me by an acquaintance, thinking I would find it funny. I didn't. 

"That's gonna add time to your workout!"

My sister is a bikini model and our parents always compare us. I've always struggled with my weight and recently started working out more on my own. 

One day, after I had eaten three Oreos, my dad said to me, "That's gonna add time to your workout!"

He then took the package away.

I haven't had an Oreo since.
 

"Whale of a woman in the humongous dress."

I've always had self image issues, but now I am married to a wonderful man who loves every inch of me exactly how it is. I've always worn jeans and big t-shirts and sweatshirts to cover up my imperfections, and also to just feel comfortable.

My husband recently very gently suggested that because I'm getting older and working, that maybe I should start dressing more professionally and wearing dresses. 

So I took him shopping with me. We had a great time, which I had never experienced while clothes shopping previously. When I tried on a dress, his jaw hit the floor. He absolutely loved it! He raved about how beautiful I was. I felt on top of the world. So much so I wanted to show myself off.

So that night, we got all dressed up and went out on the town. As we sat down to eat, I felt like everyone was staring at me. I was so uncomfortable. I excused myself and went into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror, and a wave of insecurity swept over me. I went into the stall and tried to breath through the urge to cry. 

Then three very beautiful, stuck up women walked into the bathroom. Naturally, I made no noise waiting for them to leave. 

They began talking about an "ugly whale of a woman in the humongous dress." 

"The guy is so cute," one of them said. "Why the f*** is he with her?" 

The others agreed and giggled. By the time they left, I was a balling mess. I left the bathroom then the restaurant with no explanation to my husband. 

Sometime later I told him about what happened. Of course he was as supportive as he could be. But I never wore that dress or any other since then. 

I have slowly worked on my self image and it has improved (most days anyway). I've started to dress more professionally, but for some reason I just can't bring myself over that last hill of actually wearing a dress again, although I've purchased many. Maybe some day I will get over those mean girl comments. 

But I still teach my children, and all who will listen, to be accepting of all people no matter what.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Throughout my entire elementary/middle/high school experience, I was bullied. If it wasn't my weight, it was my scars; if it wasn't those, it was something I said. The way I walked. Anything.

In grades 6 & 7, there was a specific group of kids that bullied me, and they had a ringleader. He was always the worst - he tried to start real, physical fights with my boyfriend at the time - and I was pretty tired of it, so I reported him.

Of course it only got worse. But the weird thing - the odd, wonderful thing - was that, a year after these incidents, he apologized. He sent me a message asking my forgiveness for all the things he'd said to me. 

And then, years later, in our junior year of high school, he really floored me: I was tired one day, and I decided to lie on the floor during lunch. He and his friends (the same group that had bullied me for so long) were standing across the hallway, talking amongst themselves. I was lying on the floor, my eyes closed, wondering if skipping class was worth my parents' anger, when someone touched my arm.

I looked up, and there he was. The kid who'd spent a good portion of our middle school years making my life miserable.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked. He looked sincere. His friend, another big bully, stood behind him, nodding. "Yeah, you okay?" He added.

It's stuck with me ever since, that a kid who was so awful to me and so many others could have such a huge change of heart.

"If you only lost weight..."

"You have a beautiful face! If you only lost weight, you would be just a pretty as your sister!"

 - My dad
 

"You're not that pretty, but you're still great."

When I was in eighth grade, I became friends with someone for the first time. I've always been a socially awkward person, but we clicked right away. She was my best friend. 

I struggled greatly with depression. I had breakdowns often and cried a lot. I specifically remember one time she was trying to calm me down. We had been friends for almost a year. 

She said, "People are always assholes to you, and I don't really get why. I mean sure, you're fat and not that pretty, but you're still great." 

I will never forget the time my best friend called me fat to my face.
 

They are my legs.

All my life, I've had bigger legs. I've always been self conscious of them, but I've tried not to let it get to me. I acted like I didn't care what people thought, and wore what was "in style," like short shorts. 

When I was 15, I had a huge crush on a boy, and I knew his feelings were mutual. We hung out alone a couple times, but I would never kiss him like he always wanted. 

He always teased me and compared me to another girl he used to date, saying that she wouldn't have a problem kissing him and that she wasn't so shy.

He also told me my legs weren't much to brag about.  

That little comment stuck in the back of my mind for years. 

I didn't want to wear average swimming bottoms anymore. I didn't want to wear shorter shorts anymore. There was a few years where I HATED my legs. I was so ashamed. And no matter how much I worked out, they never seemed to shrink.
 
I'm married now to a wonderful man (who loves my legs, I might add). Even though they aren't supermodel legs. He tells me they are beautiful and strong. 

You know what? They are. 

I started really getting into fitness, and my legs have actually grown! And I'm not ashamed. They are my legs, and I'm lucky to have them. 
 

"You're getting fat."

August 2001, just before the seventh grade, my mom had a heart attack. She had to have several surgeries, and having to stay in bed made her more volatile than usual towards me.

One day I was trying to eat dinner with her, and she said, "You should stop eating so much. You're getting fat."

I was stunned that she would say that to me. She was far from thin, while I couldn't keep a size 3 in Levi's from falling off my hips.

This comment clung to me so tightly that, eight years later on my R&R from my Afghanistan deployment, I sat and cried in a changing room when I realized that I was a size 4.
 

"You look so good now..."

"You look so good now that you're finally losing that weight!"
-My fiancé