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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Growing up, I was picked on constantly, but most of the kids who bullied me eventually stopped by middle/high school. Except for one girl in particular. She was the band director's stepdaughter, basically making it impossible for me to do anything about it.
I'll never forget the day when we got our pictures taken in our marching band uniforms. I had just gotten my hair cut and highlighted the day before, and thought I looked really pretty.
She walked up to me and said, "Oh, your hair doesn't look THAT bad today."
I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.
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."
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.
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.
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.
