When I was twelve years old I confided in a friend of mine that I’d been raped. This person wound up not really being my friend, instead this person ran around telling everyone in our 7th grade class that I was a slut and I’d lost my virginity. I remember thinking about it, I’d lost my virginity. I let them continue thinking these rumors were true because it was easier to deal with than the truth. I didn’t want to fight about it and I didn’t want to tell my mother. I ducked under the radar and waited for the rumors to pass.
The rumors never really went away. I was an over developed 12 year old girl in a world where boys were getting curious and the girls were finely tuning their catty abilities. I just kept my head down and went about my business, but kids are fucking mean. I was cornered in bathrooms by girls in my grade and shamed for my body. I was objectified by boys who barely produced enough testosterone to hold erections. I was so confused and I hated my body for what it was doing to my life.
By 3rd grade I was in training bras, so by 6th grade I was a C cup, not a small C cup either, a full handful C cup. I didn’t know how to treat my body, I resented it for causing me so much grief, but I started to realize what I could so with it. I started exploiting it.
Everything from there on out was for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t have a handle on my sexuality and I certainly wasn’t the most mentally stable. I am now, however, learning those important lessons they don’t teach you in school. The importance of loving my body.
I occasionally come across one of the people who made my life hell when I was growing up, and my heart drops into my stomach and my body temperature rises and all I want to do is scream at them. I want to tell them about the years of therapy, and poor relationships and debilitating bouts of depression I suffered over the years. I want them to know that for years I believed that my body was a curse and that it was my fault I was sexually assaulted. I want them to know how much work it took to get myself to where I am now. How hard I work to love myself. I want them to just know.
I want them to teach their children not to make the mistakes they did growing up.
But I sigh and I move past it. I stifle that pride and I forgive them. I am a better person for it all, and I never have to go back. I will never stop loving myself again. Not a single person gets to take that from me.