Pretty Girls Cry

 

When I was younger life was probably the hardest it was ever on me. I was pretty and outgoing and I was trusting. When I was 5 I remember the first time I was called pretty and it made me uncomfortable. I was 5 and the person complementing was a teenager, the biggest problem somebody can make is thinking kids cannot pick up when something is not right. I was an easy going kid, I knew how to talk to people and make friends and I was pretty, so people always wanted something to do with me. 

Growing up I was always told I was pretty, that my curls were amazing, my skin was flawless, my eyes were big and brown and that my lips were full and shaped. I was always aware of the fact I was pretty. And it is something I take pride in and am thankful that I am attractive to other people, however, Nobody ever sees the ugly side of pretty. 

Nobody knew in 8th grade when I lost all my weight over the summer was not because my dad introducing workout plans and family fitness, but I mastered the art of making myself throw up after I was eating. Nobody knew the amount of hate i had for my hair not because i hated my curls but others told me I looked “prettier” with straight hair. Nobody had the slightest idea on how in high school I would spend free time looking at ways to lose weight and reading articles about ” how to stay skinny and not starve”. Being pretty has been something I was born into but it is not something I identify with at all. 

I look like my Dad everybody tells me but since fall of 2017 all I can see in my face is my mom. I have the same eye shape, eyelashes hair color, and even facial structure. Yet i have my dads nose, his lips, and his tendencies.  Growing up I was raised by my dad, so obviously, it was a man and he was never shy about letting me know when I was getting fat. I was 12 going on 13 summer of 7th grade into 8t grade when I was laying on the couch and he told me I was getting a double chin. I remember ignoring him and trying not to let it get to me when in reality I was triggered. And from that comment, he had the idea of punishments being a physical activity such as running a mile or hills. And I remember one incident he made me run 3 miles for bringing a firefly in a cup into the house. I remember I was so exhausted I was dizzy and threw up. And that was the first day I had became obsessed with the fact I could eat and not get fat. 

So that summer I did stupid shit all the time because I would be getting the exercises on top of the fact I would sneak to the bathroom in the middle of the night and jam two fingers to the back of my throat to throw up whatever I ate that day. I wasn’t depressed nor angry I was honestly addicted to it, because the weight was falling off. My ” double chin” was gone and I had a slat stomach skin legs, a hallow face and I was 120 pounds, the smallest I have ever been. I should have been happy right, then the depression came. 

I was gagging myself for months to still feel as if I was not pretty enough. I was finally skinny but you know what, my head was too big, my face was hallowed and pale death-like, and my chest was the biggest thing on my body so I just looked sick. but it was okay because you know I was only 13 so I had time to grow I had time to develop I was just getting started. 

 

My first actual kiss in my life was unwanted and from a boy, I had no interest in kissing. The first time I had kept a secret for a guy was when we were playing house and I didn’t want to hug him and tell him I loved him and he shoved me down and told me if I cried or told how I really scrape my hand 1. nobody would believe me and also nobody likes a snitch. And something about these incidents that are so different yet so similar was the fact I was told ” you are so pretty I couldn’t help myself” 

I remember the night after being kissed I felt like maybe I did want it, maybe I did ask for it because you know I was very welcoming and friendly, and I shouldn’t have been so trusting and I shouldn’t have been friendly and pretty. I remember the day after I didn’t feel like myself, I wasn’t excited for the day, and I sure wasn’t looking forward to seeing him or being around him. I remember telling myself maybe if I wasn’t pretty he would leave me alone. So I didn’t do anything I just put on an ugly little red shirt and black jogging suit and went on with my day and ended up seeing him. I remember I did all I could to avoid eye contact and he could sense I was not only uncomfortable but the fact that I was scared. And he ended up coming to me and sat by me and asked me ” so I see you listened and changed your look up” I remember my heart felt like it was about to explode and I could feel my face getting hot. I started looking for somebody to catch eye contact with so I could get up and walk away but before I got my escape he told me something I probably will never forget in the life and that was ” You need to get used to things like that I might have been your first encounter but I most definitely won’t be your last” And sadly that piece of shit was right. 

In High School, I hit an internal conflict. I didn’t look how I did when I was “pretty” I had gained weight and have thinned my eyebrows out beyond belief. I had burned my hair to no repair from a perm trying to delete my curls which never fully went away. For the first time in my life, I believe I felt and looked ugly. Granted is still had guys who were attracted to me but it was never the ones I wanted. And within those weird years of puberty, I had learned 3 things 

  1. It was so much easier being a “non-attractive ” female in society because people left you the hell alone and didn’t hold you to certain expectations 
  2. looks are so superficial they come and go and you never know when it is going to happen 
  3. You can not escape a reality that is not even real but just an illusion. 

Fast forward to after high school my looks had changed again. My face had matured, my body had matured and my voice became “adult-like”. I was getting messages from people who never looked my way when we lived in the same area and seen each other every day at school. I was getting attention from people I only have seen on tv and it was a whole new world.   

I thought I was finally hitting a place in which I enjoy then bam life had it out for me to learn another lesson. I was pretty but damn there I was now the pretty hoe. You know because everybody you follow you have to be having sex with. And you know when you are pretty you are stuck up and this evil bitch. I went from being completely ignored and forgotten about to being under this microscope and labeled this slut. 

A breaking out moment for me was when I was talking to this one guy and I was so comfortable with him I ended up telling him everything about my life and showing him pictures of me in makeup, wigs, weave all done up and at that moment I just took it all off infront of him. I took the false eyelashes off wiped the makeup threw the wig across the room took my hair out the bun and just looked at him and said ” this is me, this is as real as it gets” and he told me ” this is the best I have ever seen you look” I remember standing in front of him looking like a cracked out chicken little and shocked because he was either blind or he could actually see me for me. which most people can’t do. 

People will either take this blog post as me being a crybaby or will relate to it because they experienced it. Being pretty is nice but it simply looks, and they change. being pretty doesn’t mean somebody is stuck up or a bitch or whore or is easy and should be sued and treated 

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