As a kid, you don’t worry about real-world problems. The only way you even know they existed is if an adult tells you about them or you experience them first hand. As a kid, it was blatantly obvious that I was the bigger sister out of the 3 of us. And, that is very hard on a kid. Always being compared. But, I didn’t care, until third-grade.

 I walked into my 3rd-grade class on the first day feeling the wave of warm air. I was the first person there so there was only me and this group of boys. This one guy caught my eye even though I could only see the back of his head. To me, he looked like Goldilocks. With gold-brown hair and peachy skin tone. He tells me, “Mrs. Brown isn’t here.” He stands up and looks at me. It was very awkward as he continued looking... It was so weird.

Third - grade me made the right decision and told them, “I’ll just wait outside, I like the cold anyway.” As I walked outside slowly to the freezing, crisp air with a little skip in my step. I heard the boys whispering. I could tell that they were laughing but not what it was about. 

As I walked outside and the icy air hit me, I could hear from a distance the boy trying to say something without breaking into laughter. “She’s so fat I bet you 5 bucks she can’t touch her toes.” Those words stabbed me straight in the back. Not because I trusted them, (you can never trust boys) but because I was caught so off guard. I ran to the bathroom on the edge about to burst out into tears. I finally gathered myself and went back to the classroom. 

I was three minutes late on purpose because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t the only one in the room with those barbaric scums of the earth. The whole day was sluggish yet it went by in a snap. I went to the office looking for someone to talk to, someone I could trust because for sure I didn’t want to tell my parents. I was basically running when I got in. But slowly stopped as the muggy humid air hit me. The air had a bad smell but after a while the muggy air and the smell became comforting. Like as if there were so many people here for you that it’s kind of gross.

I walked up to the desk with the nicest looking lady, feeling as though she would give me the biggest feeling of comfort. As I say what happens I find a photo of the boy on one of the office desks and I point to it to help state my case. Expecting full support, the only response I got back was, “You mean Cole, Mrs. Brown’s son.” I swallowed, but there was absolutely nothing in my mouth, leaving it dry and stale. To add the cherry on top, she said right after, “I know Cole, he would never say that he probably meant it as a joke. Plus it’s good to face challenges now because middle school is much worse.” Like that helped a whole ton. I walked away trying to end this conversation as soon as possible and just head home. I forgot the words and moved on, or so I liked to think. I went to bed acting as if it was the day before.

After I realized that I could be treated differently because of my size, I finally concluded that I was. Small things hurt the most. Being told, “you sure you should have another plate.” or “make sure you save some room for us.” Even just a little up and down look and the emotion of disgusts or judgment slowly crawling upon their face.

 Whenever someone was being teased or the slightest joke was being made, they loved to target me. “At least I’m not fat,” they would say. Those words hurt so badly. It was like a bunch of knives constantly being shoved into my heart and I was doing nothing about it. Just constantly pulling them out trying to heal a constant wound that didn’t want to heal. Those words would make me feel worthless. Like my size determined my value. I mean it doesn’t matter though, since it’s only going to get worse in middle school.

It was now 6 grade and I was expecting the worst. Some big 8th graders were going to walk around looking for their next victim to beat up. A few months later I realized that it wasn't bad at all. There were enough people in the school where I could finally be friends with people who were nice to me and wouldn’t make jokes about me. Another thing is puberty started and I started to get thinner and I stretched out a bit. I made the 8th-grade volleyball team and I would say sixth grade was a success. Of course, I got terrible comments but I learned to stand up for myself and tell them off. (Well if you call bottling my feelings up because I didn’t want to be the crybaby at school.)

Seventh grade was just as good. I started to go to Redwood City for volleyball. But then COVID hit hard and everything shut down. We had online volleyball and I was pretty stoked that in such a hard time we can still train. After 10 weeks of 5 days of workouts a week I was pretty happy it ended. Then like everyone else I started to gain weight. But, shortly after I lost it. If you looked me in the eye now and ask if I lost in a healthy way I wouldn’t know what to tell you. Everything I did was right, I did eat enough I was working out but I was so obsessed with the number on the scale I could care less I was dizzy all the time, or that I had no energy. I didn’t care about all the signs my body was trying to tell me. I was just so worried about why I didn’t look like everyone else. Or why in old volleyball photos I looked different in the same jersey. All the hate I was used to getting from others was now being given... by me fifty times harder.

One night my dad wanted to do something nice because everyone was bored and it was a scorching hot day. So my dad came up with the brilliant idea to take us out for ice cream. I was so ready, I finally changed out of my pajamas and into my favorite shorts. And, then most out of pocket thing happened. “MY SHORTS DON'T FIT!” I said to myself looking up in the mirror on the verge of crying. What I saw was terrifying in my eyes. A little fat hanging out of the shorts because of how tight the band was. That small little thing changed my mood completely. I told my parents I wanted to stay home because I had a stomach ache. As I watch my family drive off ready to have the most enjoyable thing happen to them this whole month. I was laying in bed thinking. All these rude, dehumanizing, abusive words start swarming inside my head. The rest of the night I spent alone. My own words slowly eat me up from the inside. And me, I'm just laying there accepting defeat. And all this because a pair of shorts I had for 2 years plus didn’t fit anymore.

After two months of accepting defeat and just always feeling disgusted at myself. The most ironic thing happened. One of the biggest things that started all of this self-hatred... ended it. I saw one video on social media about self-love. Yeah, you know the app where everyone pretends or shows off how perfect their life is. Someone my size showing everyone what they truly looked like. I mean, I have seen plenty of skinny girls forcefully pushing their stomachs outs. Saying girls should support girls yet they're the type of girls to talk about others behind other girl's backs. “Yeah thanks, that helps young girls so much.” I always thought to myself rolling my eyes far enough that they could get stuck. Because I know it’s all an act. But that one post with someone who looked like me embracing their beauty changed everything. She seemed so genuine and happy in her skin. I felt so envious, so happy, so appreciated at the same time. This girl who looked like me, who looked so beautiful in those 15 seconds without sucking in her stomach. I wanted to do that, to be that. All those feelings because of one genuine smile.

 After that, I decided to work on myself. Realized I can do that too and if I want to change I need to make it happen. So, for every diet and weight loss account I followed, I changed it for a self-love account. Learned how balance is key and that I should take care of my body yet still enjoy it and embrace it for all its beauty. Finally realized that this is all just some dumb system telling us how to live. What to love and what to hate about ourselves. What to think, what to act like. Being taught that there is a right way and a wrong way to live.

I mean, my whole life my value and beauty were determined by a quick up and down glance. Those 3 seconds of judgment determine whether people wanted to talk to me or talk about me. No matter how short or how little those comments were it would change my mood completely. Make me feel like I’m on top of the world for one second and hit rock bottom the next. And after all that it makes you think. People are always going to have something to say about you. If I lost weight someone else would just find something else they didn’t like and pick at it again. It's never about what I looked like, but how I saw myself.