x
I get home, hang my coat on the hanger, and take off my boots. It's been a long day, one of those where you arrive your house with your head about to explode. "I need a hot shower to clear my head"
So I go into the bathroom, put on a playlist with chill songs and slowly undress. I'm tempted to ignore the image the mirror offers me, but I can't look away. I observe each detail of my figure, one by one.
Although it's true that at some point in my life I ended hating my body completely, I now feel indifferent to it. I have good days, in which I feel like a complete goddess, and others in which I disgust myself. Those bad days when I find my body image absolutely disgusting are nothing more than a consequence of the bullying I suffered as a child. It seems incredible that even if more than a decade has passed, the comments of those children are still inside my head. But that's how trauma works. It's a wound that stays inside the mind and only you can heal.
At the same time, those good days when I feel good about myself are the result of years and years of therapy, and an funny thing that happened. While it's true that as a child I was despised for my body's appearance and rejected by all the boys, there was one thing that changed at some point. It turns out that there was a year when my chest started to grow and I started to develop a curvy figure, and magically, the bullying stopped. I guess that made me feel partially good, because at least I wasn't being insulted and belittled anymore, but it didn't bring anything good either. I don't know if it's worse for people to look at you with disgust than lewdly.
As I think about all this, I am reminded of the dream I had the night before, as it's related to the matter. It's true that on many occasions I cursed at my body for having developed faster than the other girls'. This brought me nothing but trouble, as the guys went from making my life miserable by messing with my body to making my life miserable by being disgusting perverts. I blamed my appearance for the behavior of my colleagues, even though the problem was never mine.
It wasn't my fault being afraid when the boys chased me. I hadn't done anything to deserve feeling unprotected in the the world just because I was born a woman. It wasn't fair that I had to put up with such situations just because I had a certain body type.
I clenched my fists for a second and got into the shower.
78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6ST0g1s2qf
