"Is she pregnant?"

One day I was at my boyfriend's house watching TV with his family. I glanced over at him and saw that he said, "No," to his uncle. I asked what his uncle had asked him, and my boyfriend responded, "Nothing, babe."

I persisted, and eventually he told me. 

"He asked if you were pregnant."

I felt my heart drop. 

I got up and walked out of the room and cried.

I lost 25 pounds within the next month. I worked out twice a day and hardly ate. 

My boyfriend is very supportive and always has been. He's never made me feel fat or ugly, but whenever I look in the mirror or eat, I hear those words over and over in my head.

"Damn, you're amazing."

For years, since I was a kid, I was ridiculed. Having been overweight and friendless for a long time, I was always the girl in the corner. The girl that never participated in group activities, the girl that never left her house, or always chose to stay in the classroom rather than going out to the playground.

When I was diagnosed with anxiety, nothing changed. Except that a few people started to know who I was because of sudden panic attacks I would get in class.

My parents were always gone, and they didn't even have a clue as to what was happening. And when they found out, they didn't care. They blamed me and told me to get over it, saying, "Life only gets worse."

The years passed and I began to grow close to one boy. Let's call him T. He made me feel in a way happy. The relationship was completely platonic. I started to get terrified that he would grow tired and leave me when I was finally feeling happy. So I began pushing him away. We stopped talking.

I currently attend a university, one I intentionally picked to get away from familiar faces. Except, there was one familiar face. And I didn't mind so much that it was T.

The first semester of college is always the difficult one, some people told me. They weren't wrong. But T made it manageable. One night, when I was alone in my dorm, I borrowed my roommate's scale, fearing I had gained the "Freshman 15." I was right. 

I broke my full length mirror. I cried. I bled. I had an anxiety attack and I trashed all of my food that was in the fridge. 

Someone knocked on the door, and I gathered myself the best I could and quietly announced that I was studying. When I heard a familiar voice say, "Are you decent for me to enter?" I wanted to scream. I was lying on the ground, a hot mess, and didn't want to see anyone.

I replied, "Yeah, but–." I forgot that my door was unlocked, and he stepped inside.

He sat down and held me. He told me something nobody has ever said before.

"Life is not an easy journey, and it sure as hell is not meant to be beautiful all the time. But you are f*cking amazing and strong, because I know you're going to stand up, take a shower and tomorrow you're gonna walk outside and smile at everyone. Damn, you're amazing." 

I started crying, of course, because what he said was more than truth. It was my life for years. Something nobody ever noticed, but I screamed for someone to see. 
 

"No one is ever going to want you."

Being a size 6, I've never thought I was fat, I just knew I wasn't a size 00, which was fine with me. 

But my ex loved to say things like, "How can you still be hungry?" or, "Do you really need to eat that?" or, "Eat up fatty." I had always laughed it off and convinced myself he was joking.

It wasn't until one night that it really got to me. We were eating out and he refused to let me order dessert. He looked at me and said, "You need to stop with the food. If you keep it up, no one is ever going to want you. I don't date fat girls."

Looking back on it, I'm not sure why I stayed with someone so critical and hateful. Maybe it was the feeling that I needed to be accepted by him to validate my worth. 

It wasn't until months later, after I had worked out and starved myself to exhaustion that I realized he was fighting a battle with himself all along, and that there was never anything wrong with me.

Years later, I'm now with a man who tells me every day how beautiful "every inch of me" is. He's convinced I've never had enough to eat, and he always, always says yes when I want to order dessert.
 

Thunder Thighs

When I was in middle school, a group of boys used to come by my locker and call me Thunder Thighs. This gave me such a complex that I started dieting so hard, and I eventually began to starve myself.

My parents were so busy that they didn't even notice, until one day a neighbor said to them, "She sure looks good now that she's lost all that weight!"

My stepmom actually looked at me and said, "Oh, I never noticed till now." 

I realize now that my extreme weight loss was a call for help. But no one asked me why or how I had lost so much weight. They all just thought I looked good. 

Now, many years later later, I'm Facebook friends with one of the guys who used to make fun of me. I wonder if he remembers what he used to call me. I've never brought it up to him. 

I found out recently that he has cancer, and I do feel bad for him. But his words still haunt me. 
 

"Wow. You're PRETTY."

I have only ever seriously dated one guy, and he has only ever dated me, so I was the first girl he ever brought home.

The first Thanksgiving I spent with his family was about 5 months after we started dating, and it was the first time I was going to meet his extended family. I was fairly nervous, and spent two hours on my hair and make-up. I wore a dress that I had bought three years earlier, but had never worn because I was too self-conscious.

We walked into the kitchen where his aunt was in full whirlwind mode cooking the turkey. My boyfriend got her attention, and she turned around to shake my hand and stopped dead in her tracks to say, "Wow. You're PRETTY."

She said it like it was the biggest surprise of her life. 

Honestly, in the moment, it made me feel amazing. But after reflecting on it, I have never liked her because of that. She didn't think my boyfriend was good enough to have a pretty girlfriend. What the hell does she know.

"Bigger, larger, hairier and uncut."

One day in middle school, I was talking to a goofy guy I kind of liked and another guy who was always sort of mean to everyone. When class was over I said, "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow." My crush replied, "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," and then stage whispered to the other guy, "...undressed."

I assume he was trying to be flirty and cute, but before I could really react to his comment, his friend scanned my body from head to toe with his eyes, scoffed, and said, "Yeah. Bigger, larger, hairier and uncut." (A timely reference to the South Park Movie.)

Now, I DO admit that the joke was solid, but those words basically fueled a life-long insecurity when it comes to men finding me attractive. 

I am 30 years old, and getting married in April. Those were the first words that came into my head when I tried on my wedding dress.
 

"You finally know how it feels."

I'm the youngest of five kids, and by far the heaviest. I've always been the fat kid. And my older sister always made fun of me for it.

A few years ago during Christmas when I was 17, my sister had put on a bit of weight and my dad jokingly pointed it out. 

I later walked in on my sister crying about it in the kitchen as she poured herself a drink. I remember thinking, "You finally know how it feels."

I still feel bad for thinking that.

"You're shaking the ground!"

I was in sixth grade, and very chubby for my age. 

We were lining up to go somewhere, and a girl behind me said, "God, you're shaking the ground!" 

Now whenever I walk, I always fear that I'm actually shaking the ground.

"I'll give you the f*cking gun."

When I was 11 and my sister was 15, my sister and I were having yet another argument with our mom about us being so overweight. 

According to my mom, we, "Would never find love," and, "How could anyone love us when we are just a couple of fat asses?" The usual arguments. 

(Note: I was only about 40 pounds overweight, my sister about 75. We weren't gigantic, but overweight.)

I was crying of course, so my sister spoke up mid-argument and said, "This is why so many kids our age are killing themselves!" 

I'll forever remember the tone in my mom's voice and the look in her eyes when she looked at us and said, "I'll give you the f*cking gun." 

I still think about it every single day.

"Too fat for the slide."

Growing up, I was always a little on the curvy side. I developed very early, and by age 8, wearing a bra was not even a question. 

One day while walking to the local park with my neighbor and her granddaughter, the granddaughter turned to me and said, "I don't know how you're going to play at the park. You're probably going to break the slide going down, because you're too fat." 

I felt the tears begin to swell up in my eyes. I turned to go home, but I was too far to walk on my own. My neighbor saw me begin to tear up, and all she said in response was, "Well, are we going to cry or walk to the park?" 

Even as a child, I knew that the way they were treating me was wrong. I trudged on to the park, but didn't get on any of the equipment. 

Ever since this experience, I always feel like everything I sit on is going to either break, crack, or fall apart.