Those Kinds of Girls

When I was about 12 years old, I was going though a rebellious phase. This meant lots of Anne Sexton poetry, flannel shirts, and awkward, uncertain attempts at trying to establish my individuality. 

One day I was at the mall with my mom, and there was a gaggle of cute, perfect cheerleader types near us. I regarded them disparagingly and said something along the lines of "Ugh, I just don't understand those kinds of girls."

Without missing a beat, my mom looked up at me and said, "Well, those are the kinds of girls that guys marry."

"I never loved you."

During a fight, I told my boyfriend of five years that I was willing to marry him. 

He replied with, "I never loved you. I was just waiting for someone better to come along."

"I can't imagine why!"

I had a baby when I was very young, and I tried to raise him. When he was four years old, I let my parents adopt him so that I could grow up. I ultimately thought that this was a good idea, because if I couldn't even take care of myself, how could I take care of a baby? 

I moved to Florida and my son stayed with my parents. About two years ago, I was planning to visit them. I was on the phone to my mom, and she said, "Oh, he's so excited to see you! Although I can't imagine why!" Then she followed up with, "Oh, I'm just kidding!" 

Our relationship hasn't really been the same since, and my mom and I don't really talk anymore. 
 

Thanks, Grandma.

Every time I see my grandma, she tells me I'm fat. 

I was never insecure about my weight until she made comments about it.

I WAS happy with myself, but now I don't even want to eat. I don't even want to see my grandma anymore.

Whore

One day when I was 20, I was driving to hospice with my parents to visit my aunt, who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I had my headphones in, but I had paused the music, and I overheard my parents talking about one day having grandkids.

My dad said to my mom, "I hope my granddaughter doesn't turn out to be a f*cking whore like her mom." 

I've always tried to forget this, but I can't seem to.

"You're never going to do anything with your life..."

My ex-boyfriend, who I dated for almost five years, told me, "You're never going to do anything with your life except flip burgers at some fast food joint." 

Now I'm in college, getting my degree in cosmetology. I think about his words every day. They motivate me to do my best in all of my classes.
 

"I don't want you to be alone."

The day my husband told me he was no longer in love with me, I asked why he had waited so long to admit it. 

He said, "Because without me, you'll be alone, and I don't want you to be alone."

Ever since that night, I have made every effort to be okay with just my son and me. But those words still ring in my ears in the middle of the night when I am alone.
 

Disappointed.

My mother once told me that my father who is deceased would be disappointed in the person I've become, because I am transgender.

"They won't fit you anyway."

The summer before 8th grade was very difficult for me. I had started to notice that because of my size, people – boys in particular - treated me very different in comparison to girls who were thin. I spent that entire summer binging on saltines and carrots, which resulted in me making myself throw up.

By the time school resumed, I had lost about 50 pounds. My pant size dropped by 3 sizes and I felt absolutely AMAZING. l felt like I was finally a normal teenage girl.

One day my best friend and I were shopping and I found the cutest pair of shorts. They weren’t my size but I really liked the idea of using them as “goal” shorts. 

I gushed to my friend about how perfect they were. She grabbed them out of my hand and looked at the size and said, "Let me try these on. I bet they'll look really good on me, and they won't fit you anyway. They're too small."

Her words rung with condescension, and it was hurtful to hear her say something that I already knew but hoped nobody else thought. 

"The Jungle's back!"

I'm of East Indian/West Indian heritage, and growing up in Canada, I had more body hair than other girls in my class. I was often teased about it and was called hairy, gorilla, nasty and more. I was miserable because I was in middle school and my mother wouldn't let me shave. 

In seventh grade, my family went away for Christmas and my parents decided to extend our vacation by a week. The day I returned to school, I was the first one in homeroom, and was surprised that the few classmates who came in after welcomed me back. One guy came in, smiled brightly and said "Good to have you back!" Seriously, I started doubting my sanity and wondering if I had misjudged everyone all along. 

Then I heard the same kid out in the hallway by the lockers say, "Hey everyone! Guess what? The Jungle's back!" Everyone laughed like crazy as usual. 

I'm now 37 and have married and had kids. But the scars have lasted a lifetime and I still feel ugly and hairy and disgusted with myself, even though I shave and wax. I feel uncomfortable and gross inside my own body. I am withering inside. I know I should just get over it already, but I can't.