"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."
 

"Why did you let yourself be alone with him?!"

When I finally got up the courage to confess to my mother that my former stepbrother (from her second marriage) had molested me, she looked me dead in the face and asked, "Why did you let yourself be alone with him?!" 

I cannot forgive her. I've tried, but I just can't. I hate her. I hate everything about her. 

When she met my one-year-old son for the first time and he cried every time she tried to hold him, I couldn't help but smile. 

"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.

"How could she do that to you?"

My now-husband and I became pregnant with our son when I was 20 and he was 22. We were young and it wasn't ideal, but we loved each other, had been together for a year, and were already prepared to raise a family; it just happened a little earlier than we'd thought. 

My husband called his mother to tell her the news, and I sat very close to him, trying to hear her reaction. I never expected what came next: 

"How could she do that to you?" she asked. "Doesn't she know you can't afford it?" I stood up, but I could still hear her. "You do know that when she leaves you, you're going to have to pay her, right?" 

I don't even know what my husband said because I remember being so shocked and hurt that I walked out of the room and sat outside. 

My son is 8 now, and my husband and I have been together for a little over 10 years, married for 5, and bought our first home 2 years ago. We are still very much in love, and we are incredible parents.

In that whole time, my mother in law has said countless stupid and mean things to me. But this comment has always stuck with me and always will. 
 

"There's something wrong with her!"

I had extremely sever acne as a teenager, and eventually I had to go to a dermatologist. 

When my father found out that the insurance would not cover my visit, he yelled at my mom, "Why not? There's something wrong with her!"

I have carried this comment with me for 40 years. 

Low self-esteem, no confidence, and settling for my first real boyfriend were all things I attributed to this one cutting sentence. 

Thanks, Dad.
 

Thick Thighs

When I was seven years old, my grandmother told me, "You have such thick thighs." 

Looking back now I realize that I had muscular thighs, not "thick" thighs. 

If she had said "muscular," maybe I wouldn't have spent the next eight years battling anorexia, and the rest of my life recovering.

"Come and get it, I'm giving it away!"

When I was about 11, my friend and I were playing outside on a hot Florida summer day. After a while, we decided to go to her house to cool off in the air conditioning for a bit.

I had let her borrow a pair of my shorts that day, and when we came inside, her dad threw a fit about how short they were. He proceeded to sing, "Come and get it, I'm giving it away!" in a jaunty tune at her until she changed. 

To this day, 16 years later, I can still hear his ugly/jolly voice singing that song every time I put on a pair of shorts.

"Do you ever do anything but eat?"

When I was 12, I went to visit my grandparents' foster daughter for a couple of weeks. She had a kid who was my age, so we played and swam all day. I admit I was a pudgy kid, and looking back, I probably used food as an emotional support. 

A few days before we went home, I wandered through their house, looking for swimmer's ear drops. I saw the mom (my grandparents' foster daughter) watching TV with a bowl of popcorn on her lap, and as I passed by I absently asked for a handful. 

She exploded at me, and said, "Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you ever do anything but eat? It's disgusting to watch!" 

I was 12. 

She had known me for less than 2 weeks. 

I will never speak to her again.

"No one would care if you died."

I remember so clearly the day my brother went with me to the bus stop, five years ago. He had been upset that morning, and he took it out on me. We got into a fist fight, and when I finally hit back, he lost it. 

He told me to put a plastic bag on my head and go play in the street. He said, "No one would care if you died. They'd be better off without you." 

The events of that one morning led to my years of depression and anxiety. And finally my suicide attempt. 

To this day, when I get sad, I remember what he said. That everyone is better off without me.
 

"It's either him, or being alone forever."

Growing up, my mom and I would argue about my weight all the time. She would tell me things like, "No one could ever love a fat ass like you," or, "You'll end up alone if you don't lose weight."

When I was a freshman, a senior guy who I met in band developed a crush on me. My mom was so excited, and I'm pretty sure that she was the one who fell in love with him. 

She was pretty insistent that I give him a chance, even though I wasn't very comfortable with the idea because he creeped me out. She said, "He's the only man that's ever going to be interested in you. It's either him, or being alone forever." I didn't want to be alone, so I settled. We started dating. I graduated three years later, and we got married that summer. 

We were married for three years, and my depression got worse every single day. He was unsupportive and expected me to do everything, even though I often worked longer hours than he did. He decided that smoking weed and passing out on the couch was more important than pulling his weight. I never enjoyed sex, and I faked orgasms for six years. 

I finally got up the courage to ask for a divorce. He did not take it very well. He blamed all of our issues on me. When I told my mom about the divorce, she went insane. She told me that I would die alone if I went through with it. 

Fast forward to now: I've started dating the most amazing man who appreciates everything I do for him, but never expects it. I'm actually happy for once in my life. I've been happy for nearly a year now. 

Now I'm proving my mother wrong, every single day.