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4:08 PM, April 13th, 2012

My Puffy-faced moment

kaitodarkmousy:

Oh man… which one to choose….

I guess I’ll go with two different ones. 

The first time:

When I transfered schools in 11th grade, I moved into a private school in which the student population was pretty much closed to the outsiders who came in. To make matters worse… I had just gotten a new retainer. Now. This wasn’t just any old retainer. Nope. It looked something like a mouthguard. I had to take it out to talk or do anything. This gave me awful names, not to my face, of course because the school was “Christian,” but behind my back. My brother participated in this, calling me “football player” and “ugly” when he was behind my back, but being nice to me to my face. Boost to the self esteem that. I finally decided that I would go out and get a better education than any one of them, then at the reunion show them how smart and beautiful I was. 

The second time:

I gained some weight when I was overseas and I asked my mom to help me lose the weight. She did, by making sure I monitored every bite I ate. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom dearly, but sometimes…she just annoys me. Before I lost the weight, she’d shake her head and sigh. When I started losing the weight, she’d start saying, “Good! When you get to your goal weight of 125, we can get you pretty things, because then you’ll look nice!” I tend to bloat with my period, so every time I’d bloat, she’d look at me, shake her head and be all “We need to start taking food away from you. You’re getting fat again.” I have put some weight back on, but I’m working on losing it and she’s just “When I last saw you, your tummy was flat. Now it’s huge. You need to get to your goal weight if you want anything pretty.” She used to call me pretty…. now she doesn’t. Ever. It’s always, “your belly is sticking out” “how much do you weigh?” “did you weigh yourself this morning?” “what did you eat today?” “you ate too much.” I finally reached 135 (Which meant I’d lost about 40 lbs in 6 months) but it wasn’t good enough for her. I had started seeing myself as pretty, but she would always ask “What’s wrong? What happened? WHy arent’ you 125? You should be!” Mind you…. I don’t exercise. If I didn’t know the consequences of eating disorders having a teacher who discussed what it’s like, I’d be bulimic right now. I’ve seriously considered it, but the health risks are too high. My grandma pounded that into my head. But when I look at pictures of my self, or look at myself in the mirror, all I see is ugly. And fat. I’ve started dreading stepping on the scale. Like yesterday, I was 141. Mind you, I’m 5’7”, 23 year old woman. Not too bad. But to me, I kinda look like a contestant on Biggest Loser. I’m trying to decide that I’m pretty however I am. That’s why Ashley Judd helped. But yeah. That’s my puffy faced moment. 

You’re sending in more puffy-face moments, and they are great

Reblogged from Newsweek
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