Get ready for a morbid, deep story.
When I was in middle school there was this new guy in class. A real wise guy. He was assigned a seat at out table. I know you're thinking that's like something straight out of elementary but I lived in a close nit community in a tiny town where middle school was still like elementary school. We had one teacher, and one desk(each), and one class. And so at first he was teasing me light heartedly but then he started to get real nasty and I remember he said, "Really? You're a girl? I was a little fuzzy on that." It was hilarious but man did I take a blow to the feels. I excused myself to the bathroom to cry my heart out. You know how fragile egos are at that age. He tried to assure me he was kidding but the damage was done.
The boys saw how easy it was to ruffle my feathers and they all followed suit. I was made fun of and teased until 8th grade when I became withdrawn and they just left me alone.
It's silly I could let such an insignificant comment change my life. But since that day, I doubted my gender. To be honest, I'm still surprised people can tell I'm a girl. I spend so much time trying to differentiate myself from the opposite sex. It's all that my life has become. I epilate everything, I use skin peels, I grew out my hair, etc.. For a while I was even waist training to get that real feminine shape. I want to be as womanly as possible. That means a smaller waist, shapelier hips and of course, bigger boobs.
It turned to something else recently though. A few months back I see the boy who started it all near my campus. He eyed me up and down, that boy. He thought I was fine and oh, how I've changed. I went from an ugly androgynous duckling to a feminine young lady. That look. There was something about it that changed my whole perspective. It was no longer achieving beauty for other people but rather, for my own satisfaction. I like seeing people when they realize they were wrong.
I don't have as many issues as I used to and I ain't a victim no more. I learned that bullying can either push you to suicide or perfection. I took the perfection route and here I am, becoming better looking one goal at a time. I guess I am thankful. Had it not been for him, God knows how I would've turned out. At least when I'm spending time trying to prove everyone wrong, I'm becoming better looking. Smarter. Stronger.
"Mom says my boobs will stay small?" Well look, I'm growing and even you noticed, mama.
"Dad says I can't lighten my eyes?" How you like my light brown eyes now, daddy?
"You can't afford driving lessons." Really? Here I am, 4 months later with my permit.
Ugh, how I love the look on people's faces when they realize how wrong they were. I like the look and the silence that follows as they observe the changes. They stand there in awe and wonder. They want to ask, "What's your secret?" as if I'd tell the person who hurt me and propelled me to persevere & succeed in the first place.
In short, I want bigger boobs because at least four people have told me I can't have them. And because of that, now I have to and I will have big boobs. They told me I cant. I'll show them I can.
Is this an unhealthy way of choosing and achieving goals? Yeah. It is. But I don't care. At least I'm being productive.
