I had serious acne when I was younger. One time in middle school, my friend was upset about a pimple on her face. I told her she looked perfectly fine, but she told me, "You don't understand, because you always look like that."
When I was about 8, I was hanging out with my friend who was about four years older than I was.
All of a sudden, she looked down and said, "Oh my God, you look like a f*cking gorilla with those hairy arms!" and broke into hysterical laughter.
I'm 16 now, and so self conscious about it that I won't leave my house without making sure most of my arms are covered.
I was never the one to have loads of friends. My group was small, and to everyone else I was just a nobody. Getting likes on social media was always a big deal to me, but I'd only ever get the occasional few on a new Facebook picture.
One day I posted a new photo and was surprised to see it hit 40 likes, which made me feel super good about myself.
Then one day a new friend added me on Facebook, and after seeing the picture said, "You're such a poser. The photo looks nothing like you." My heart sank inside. In an instant, my self esteem shot down.
I know that social media shouldn't mean so much, but it does. The internet is such a big part of our lives now.
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.
My art teacher was the one teacher who helped me with my mental illness. He never pointed out when I lost or gained weight, or when it was obvious that I was hiding the new wounds on my arms and legs. He made sure I ate lunch in his classroom every day because he knew I had an eating disorder. Most days I just ate an apple, but seeing someone put forth so much effort into my well-being helped me more than he will ever know.
I came back to visit him after I graduated, and he told me, "When you first started coming to class your freshman year, I thought we were going to lose you before you graduated."
Then he smiled and said, "But you made it. And you did it on your own. You're strong, and you should never forget that. I'm proud of you."
Growing up, people told me that I was too weird to ever find a guy who would marry me. I was told that I'd have to find a guy who could "tolerate" me, and that I would have to be the one to propose.
My art teacher in high school told me that the man I'd wind up marrying would probably be a serial killer.
I was always very self confident. Up through my childhood and teenage years, I never really worried about my body. I loved myself, and I never quite understood those that didn't.
My best friend asked me to be her maid of honor during my freshman year of college. I said yes, and when the wedding weekend arrived, I was so excited I could barely contain myself.
It wasn't the fun weekend I had anticipated though, because my friend started screaming and throwing tantrums about every little detail. I started to get frustrated, but I tried to be patient. I kept telling myself that getting married is an emotional time, and as soon as ceremony was over, she would be fine.
The time came for everyone to get dressed. I will never forget her yelling at me, "God, can you put some spandex on or something? That dress makes you look so freaking chubby. And put some concealer on your arms, and maybe some more on your face. It's bad. This is MY wedding and I don't want to look back and have an ugly cow in my pictures!"
I haven't talked to her since that day, and even though its been years, I still struggle with an eating disorder and constant self doubt. I loved her, and she was my best friend. I can't help but think maybe what she told me was right. Maybe I am just an ugly cow.
I didn't take French class, but I used to talk to the French teacher at my school because we both were French. When couple of kids told me that the teacher invited me to a French class party before winter break, I followed them to the classroom and began grabbing food from the buffet.
I went up to thank the teacher for inviting me to the party, but she just gave me one of the dirtiest looks ever and said, "Take your plate and leave the classroom."
It turns out she never invited me, and that a bunch of kids decided to pull a prank on me. I never talked to the teacher again.
And that's what stuck with me, even 12 years later.
I was preparing to do a skit with some friends, and when I told them which part I wanted to play, the girl who I looked up to the most said, "You can't, because you're not dainty enough."
She didn't mean for it to sound mean, but her comment has stuck with me, and I can barely eat more than a sandwich anymore.
In seventh grade, my four best friends and I were decorating my friend's Christmas tree. At one point we were all keeling on the couch, leaning against the back of it, looking at the tree, while my friend decorated it.
Then she switched her glance from the tree to us, and laughed and said to me, "It's such a funny image to see everyone with normal butts, and then you with absolutely no butt!"
Everyone laughed, and I did too, but I felt mortified and horrible. I wasn't even aware at that point that I had no butt, or that having no butt was such a funny sight.
After her comment, I ordered padded underwear off the internet. Now as an adult, I no longer wear the padded underwear, but I am still very much aware of my butt at all times.
Has anyone ever made a fleeting comment about you that immediately became tattooed onto the front of your brain for all of eternity, impacting your self-perception and self-worth? Whether it was an offhand comment made by someone you love and respect or a fleeting declaration by someone you barely know, we share the moments that stick.
