strandedthoughtsworld - Tumblr blog

[strandedthoughtsworld]

I’m just gonna write this here because it’s been living rent free in my mind for..*does the math* eight years. Gross eight years, I’m fucking old. Anyway, this happened when I was at the ripe age of 16. That time where your insecurities are at an all time high and everything sucks and you’re pretty sure no one will ever love you. 

For some reason, I had gotten this burst of confidence and thought: “hell yeah, I think I’ll wear a bikini for the first time this summer”. I had my own job and ordered this real cute floral one online. I also ordered a shirt I liked and waited with bated breath for my package to arrive. It came in a box, I brought it home, my mom asked “Hey, what did you get?” 

I wasn’t quite ready for everyone to know about my confidence boost so I just said “A shirt”, to which she replied “There’s no way only a shirt came in that box, you’re lying. Tell me now”. My my, quite some aggression right of the bat. My fear and anxiety skyrockets and I tell her I got a bathing suit. Well she wants to see it…great. So I show it to her…she wants me to put it on…awesome. 

This new found confidence of mine has plummeted within seconds as I put on the suit. Suddenly it’s too tight, I’m sucking in my gut, and I put on a pair of shorts to maybe hide my shame. 

“I’ll wear these shorts with it,” I tell her. She’s just…staring at me. There’s clear disgust I’m sure. I can see it in her eyes. It’s taking everything in me not to cry. She tells my sister to hand her the iPad so “I can take pictures so you can see what you look like”

She makes me turn around, gets all my bad angles. At this point I’m hoping to drop dead soon. 

After she finishes clicking away, she hands me the iPad and says “Now go look at yourself”. I shamefully rush to my room and close the door. I don’t need to look at the pictures because I already know I’m a fat, ugly pathetic mess. So once I stop crying enough to where I can breathe, what else is there to do except cut the emotions away? Cut them out. Bleed them out. Make everything go away with thin lines on my thighs. 

I’ve never spoken of this with my mom. Never brought up this event since it’s happened. In her mind, she’s justified because I lied to her so…this was an apt punishment I guess. It’s something that’s stuck with me for years. How could it not? It’s one of those defining moments you look back on when you realize why your self confidence is so fucked up. Why you’re so critical over yourself. Even now, writing it out, all those emotions are running back and I’m hating myself again. 

Just gotta fight it. I need be to nicer to that 16 year old girl. I have to show her the kindness my mother didn’t.