I was a bony kid, up until maybe 3rd grade, and then I started to put on weight. Fast. My mother found this absolutely unacceptable, and would make me ride her exercise bike. She would literally stand by with a yardstick so that she could hit me if I stopped.

To this day, almost 17 years later, the memory still makes me sick.

I have always been chubby. I went to a private middle school and high school on scholarship and for some reason rich people = skinny (90% of the time). So I was surrounded by rich skinny girls and at sleep overs I couldn't play dress up with any of their clothes.
My doctor, the father of a boy at my school, would tell me every visit from age 8 to 18 that I needed to lose weight and once when I was 12 he gave me a diet plan I was supposed to follow. Now I know I was chubby but I was not one of those obese kids, and even if I was, I was a kid! Kids are allowed to be chubby, anyone is allowed to be chubby!
Thankfully my mother encouraged me to be healthy, not skinny. Today I am healthy but I am still a bit chubby, it happens. I've come to be able to look in the mirror and really see someone beautiful.

When I was 13, my best friend got herself a boyfriend. For reasons that escape me now, his friend (we'll call him K) and I struck up a friendship via text despite having never met. When we *did* meet one day when we all went out together for the first time, he seemed different than his messages but I put it down to nerves.

It was a week later that my best friend's boyfriend (may I say, against my best friend's wishes) showed me a text K had sent him: "Didn't like Tash at all. I mean come on, if I went out with her I'd have to put a paper bag over her head!!"

It just totally shattered my image of myself - I went from never really thinking about my looks to feeling as if I was ugly and worthless. At 13. It has taken eight years and two wonderful relationships to get to a place where I don't get incredibly upset thinking about that comment. I've realised now that he was the one with the problem, not me.

Two memories come to mind - Having always been tall and relatively skinny , I started gaining a bit of weight when I was about 15/16 years old. My mom started to harangue me about the weight and would comment on what I ate, how much of it I ate, etc. I just stopped eating lunch at that point and ended up losing some of the poundage Of course, for years after that, mom would be all "you're too skinny." There was no pleasing the woman. Finally, I told her to lay off and not mention my weight again.

My other memory, also regarding dear old mom, was once I said that I was a beautiful woman at the dinner table (lord knows what the conversation was about,) she criticized me for having said it, that I should be more humble.

I'm lucky I was able to see past the criticism and realize she said all that as a reflection on how she felt about herself and her comparison of herself to me.

Probably when my mom told me that because I am short and "cute but not pretty", I would always need to be thin and toned. Also all of the times when my mom has told me I need to wear more makeup, straighten my hair, and dress in a "more feminine" way.

There is NOTHING worse than your own mother saying things like that. When I have a daughter, I will never give her anything but positive feedback about her appearance and her personal style. No one should EVER pass their own insecurities on to their children.

I was a chubby preteen. When I was 10, a boy in my class said as I was walking by, "The floor shakes when you walk." Considering that I remember that one, tiny little moment in my young life, I suppose it set up me pretty well for years of yo-yo dieting and a lifetime of trying to learn how to be comfortable with my body. Sad, but true.

I was always the tallest girl in my class and thought nothing of it until my 10th grade gym teacher called me "stork" one day during a tennis game. To this day it makes me nervous to wear heels and tower over the boys and other girls even!

I got picked on mercilessly in high school for being "fat". Looking at pictures, and looking at the clothes I wore then, I was far from - I'm now about 40 lbs bigger than I was then, and wear a size 14. At the time, though, I was absolutely convinced they were right. Blah.

When I started CEGEP here in Quebec (2 years between high school and university), my dad and I ran into a girl I had known as a child. She was fantastic - incredibly outgoing, super-friendly and very nice, and just overall social. Once she had left, my dad described her as “having the social skills that you and I both lack”. That description just stuck with me, for years… at the time, it was true that my social skills weren’t incredibly developed, but, to be fair, being the victim of general school bullying for over 10 years make it fairly difficult for a child to develop any social skills.

Oddly enough, though, I continued thinking of myself as having no social skills... until, last week, I wanted to have a picnic, and got together 23 people on less than 5 hours notice. All are friends. And then I looked at my life, and (finally!) realized that I have a huge group of friends, and several very close friends, that I go out, that I have a large number of business contacts, that my job depends on social skills, that I date regularly (and casually, and that the people I am interested in tend to be interested right back…) and that, really, I should stop thinking of myself as being the fat, ugly teenager with no social skills. Easier said than done, but wow, what a realization!

I just can’t believe that I’ve basically wasted the last 10 years thinking of myself that way. For crying out loud...

I was a "late developer" - tiny but gangly until I was about 15. While I had plenty of support from my parents to enjoy being a kid, at school, I was hyper-aware that other girls were tanning, shaving, and had much larger breasts than I did.

Of course, the other kids noticed this too, and I was mocked all through middle school and into high school. Classmates called me "whitey" because I was so fair-skinned or "pointy" because my chest was so under-developed. I walked around school drawn into myself, hoping no one would notice me.

These days, thanks to my parents continued encouragement and a few great relationships, I love my body and it's curves and creaminess. In fact, I think I get the last laugh because I did eventually "blossom" and I've got a great set of breasts and skin that has yet to see a wrinkle.

For me, it was some time early in high school.

Back story: I've played softball since I was 5 years old. For almost as long, I've been a catcher, and have the thigh muscles that result from playing that position.

Anyway, I went to high school in a town very similar to Stepford (and 95% of the moms were Stepford Wives) and in my high school, anything over a 4 was considered "fat" unless you were at least 5'10". Not a good start. So here I am, a size 8-wearing athlete, and once, I was wearing my field hockey uniform to school on a game day, and I heard an off-handed comment from a few guys during class that "some girls shouldn't be allowed to wear skirts" and then some muttering about thunder thighs. I pretty much knew they meant me.

I try pretty hard to own my body and love it for what it is. I do wear a smaller size now, (though I lost the weight through a pretty nasty digestive infection...I think I'm too skinny sometimes) but I've still got the catcher's thighs, and sometimes it bugs me. I know it shouldn't, but every so often I hear that in my head.

I don't think we ever really get over the awkward teenager thing.

My skin broke in elementary school. I remember my mom and dad inspecting my face, saying "It can't be acne, she's too young.."

I remember before my first day of middle school MY DAD BROUGHT OUT SOME MAKE UP AND PUT IT ON MY PIMPLES! I had never even thought to put on make up at that point. If I wasn't self conciouss about my acne before he did that, I certainly was after. I started wearing A LOT of make up after that, which I didn't stop doing until college, which probably made my skin worse.

I was lectured by him about eating chocolate and what soap I used to wash my face (and how I washed my face) like it was MY FAULT I WAS UGLY. Like if I would just buy and use the right product with enough discipline I would be, as the commercials say "clean and clear and under control" instead of how he saw me as dirty, blemished and out of control.

Kids at school weren't better. I remember I guy I liked in middle school singing "Donna the two timing hussy has a very shiny nose and if you look real closely you can even see one explode" to the tune of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. Guys would put their hands over my face and say that if they put a bag on my head they'd want to sleep with me. It sucked.

I always tried my best in sports, but being average height with about 30 extra pounds in high school I always adapted my game to fit my strengths. That meant I was a bit of a beast. Freshman year of high school I met my male friend in gym class and he let me know that I would be proud of him for being a good friend. Apparently all the guys in the locker room before class were talking about how I was a "man," and, instead of joining in he said nothing.

Yeh, right. A real friend would have stood up for me.

I've spent the next 6 years absolutely obsessed with making sure I choose feminine clothing and wear makeup despite knowing it's all bullshit.

Another time a 5 year old girl asked me if I was pregnant. That sure stuck with me.

What's funny is my body has been criticized on both sides of the spectrum. Apparently I'm too manly and too shapely at the same time. There's no middle ground.

There were two boys on my junior high bus coming home who would go through the bus and mercilessly tease just about anyone they considered uncool. Most days, those kids would get off the bus crying.

I had decided if they ever picked on me, I'd ignore them. The day they decided on me, I was wearing a red sleeveless shirt (and strawberry dangle earrings). I've always been athletic and muscular and at the time, was playing softball which bulked up my arms a bit. When I crossed my arms and looked out the window as they teased me, they went on and on about how big my arms were. They said I looked like "Rambo's daughter."

I didn't start wearing sleeveless tops again until after I graduated college.

If you ever want to hate your body, take ballet.

I took ballet (and two other kinds of dance--you had to take all three to take one, even though I really only wanted to take tap) as a kid and while my "student" teachers as a kid were pretty nice, when I got to about middle school age and was taking from the lady who ran the dance company, it got ... bad. A lot of the "you'd be beautiful if you'd just lose weight" kinds of comments, and suddenly I could do NOTHING right. So while the previous teachers all thought I was wonderful, this woman basically looked at me and my squishy middle and said I couldn't be a dancer.

I also got some comment from my mom that, "Your father said if you'd just lose 10 pounds you'd be gorgeous." To this day I don't know if he said it, because she likes to deliver messages "from" people that are from no one but herself. But ... it hurt.

When I finally did lose a ton of weight from culture change, a bit of a tweak in eating habits (no soda) and illness on top of it, it went from "you should lose weight" to "OMG ANOREXIA!!" Especially my brother, who when I was 145 told my mom he was worried I was too fat, and when I was 110, worried I was too thin. (How about worrying about yourself??)

It's weird. It feels like other people think they own my weight. I've never had a positive comment about my body at any size.

I have trichotillomania, which means I compulsively pull out my hair. In high school it was so bad I had bald and thin spots. The day I realized my hair had grown back enough for me to wear it down in public was the day I started to love the way I look.

May I rant briefly?

Margaret Cho says "I have these little rituals of being very fastidious about my skin care and drinking a lot of water, and I see the results. When we care for ourselves, these are acts of love."

I totally agree with her that we should be doing everything in our power to make us feel beautiful. However, I get frustrated with her comment about skin care. I'm glad that she can use that to make herself feel better about herself. But at the same time, it seems like she's equating taking care of your skin with having "good", clear, blemish-free skin. As a person with pretty severe acne, I am "fastidious" about my skin care, and it doesn't give me "good" skin. I guess I just want to put out there that you can be doing everything to take care of yourself, and you still might not show it.

Or maybe I'm just overreacting and she meant she sees the results in her self-image...

In 6th grade, I hit puberty. At the beginning of the school year, I got a short hair cut (hair went to my jaw line). Unfortunately, because of puberty, my hair started changing from bone straight to wavy (and now it is super curly). Because I had the hair cut, my hair was "poofy". So of course, the older friend of the boy I liked called my hair poofy and laughed at me. After that, I wore my hair tied back in a bun for 10 years. Now, I wear my hair down almost every day. Thank god for inexpensive, effective hair care products (Sunsilk, yay!).

May I rant briefly?

Margaret Cho says "I have these little rituals of being very fastidious about my skin care and drinking a lot of water, and I see the results. When we care for ourselves, these are acts of love."

I totally agree with her that we should be doing everything in our power to make us feel beautiful. However, I get frustrated with her comment about skin care. I'm glad that she can use that to make herself feel better about herself. But at the same time, it seems like she's equating taking care of your skin with having "good", clear, blemish-free skin. As a person with pretty severe acne, I am "fastidious" about my skin care, and it doesn't give me "good" skin. I guess I just want to put out there that you can be doing everything to take care of yourself, and you still might not show it.

Or maybe I'm just overreacting and she meant she sees the results in her self-image...

I had a different body image problem. All the women in my family have ridiculously fast metabolisms until we have our first kid. When I was younger, I was super skinny no matter how much I was eating. Keeping weight on was a huge struggle - my mom would make me milk shakes for breakfast and I had rules from my doctor about how much protein I needed. None of it ever made me gain enough weight to hide my ribs.

So, of course, rumors started about eating disorders. I was 9 the first time someone asked me if I were anorexic. By high school, I was eating massive amounts of junk food in front of people to prove I wasn't anorexic, and pointedly staying in the room for an hour after to quell the bulimia rumors.

The superfast metabolism is gone now, and I miss it. But I've never forgotten having to justify my skinniness, and feeling awful about being different.

Lizzy:
I was always the tallest girl in my class and thought nothing of it until my 10th grade gym teacher called me "stork" one day during a tennis game. To this day it makes me nervous to wear heels and tower over the boys and other girls even!

I was always the tallest girl (and pretty close to the tallest person, regardless of gender) in my class, even in grade school. I was teased non-stop from about 3rd grade until graduation. Good to hear the kids aren’t as bad as when I was in school, but the gym teacher?!?! Gah, what a douche. Although, I am 35 years old and strangers still feel the need to randomly comment. They seem to think they are so very original with their comments – as if I had no idea I was tall until they pointed it out.

It took awhile to shrug off years and years of teasing, but now, I embrace my unusual height (minus the difficulty finding well-fitting clothing, but that’s getting easier). I cannot imagine being shorter. I even wear heels as high as 4”; yeah, they make me 6’5”, but only asshats care to comment about that.

Just for the record, my mom, dad, and sister were very supportive. Of course, we are all tall (mom is 6'0", sis is 5'10", dad is 5'11"), so they know what it's like.

eeks, sorry for the double post...

Or maybe I'm just overreacting and she meant she sees the results in her self-image...

I don’t think your overreacting, I got that from it, too – though I’m not sure that Margaret Cho realized that she was implying that clear skin = beautiful.

Also, new studies have shown that drinking “lots” of water does absolutely nothing; nothing for your skin, nothing for your health. The recommendations were to drink when you are thirsty, anything else was pointless.

All my life I have been ridiculed by friends, family and pretty much everyone I know. I am, and always was, a big boned, muscular person. My upper body is built and proportionate, but my lower half is very "heavy." My legs are hugely muscular and like I said, have big bones.

During grade school, I was always the "fatter person." I was also the one who got made fun of because I did not wear a bra in 4th grade because I didn't need to. (I went to a Catholic grade school in a suburb of Chicago). Since I was from Chicago, and not the suburbs, I was made for ridicule. Apparently, being from the city made you gross, fat and disgusting. Ooohh...I hated my grade school and still cringe when I think about it!!

I had really bad self-esteem throughout the rest of grade school and into my early years of high school. But, going into junior and senior years of high school, I did not care anymore about what people thought. I was going through a lot of depression at that time, so that might have been the reason. It was not until college that I finally started to slowly accept myself for who I am. I even exercised all the time, and lost a lot of weight and looked great. However, I was on anti-depressants at the time as well, and gained back all the weight I lost plus lost all my muscle mass I gained. I was extremely saddened and disappointed. I stayed like that until I REALLY started getting active within the feminist community. I finally, learned that I will always be who I am and that I am finally pretty happy with myself and being a size 10. I care, now, to be toned and gain the muscle mass I lost, but not to lose weight. I see losing weight, unless life threatening, as a waste of time now and am really happy to hear stories of other ppl including celebrities about their experiences. It really gives me a will power that I think it really necessary to have in life.

And, to all the people in my grade school that made fun of me and to society as a whole that think women should be "skinny".....

FUCK.YOU!!!

(that makes me feel better :)

Wow, I guess the one I remember most is the day I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car next to my father, around junior-high age, and he was telling me I was too fat. To demonstrate, he said "look at my leg" while gripping his own upper thigh "then look at YOUR leg" while gripping my upper thigh. Mine was way bigger, had been for years.

He wouldn't dare do anything like that now. And I did see some understanding flash in his eyes a few years ago. I had to write a paper for a class and was considering interviewing a friend of his who is very large about being a fat woman in a position of power (she works waaaaay high up in the state educational system, far above my father). I asked him if he thought she'd agree to the interview, explained what it was about, and he said he wasn't sure but that I might be the only person she'd talk to about it. Since then he seems to understand my position on fat as a social status rather than personal failing a lot better than the thigh-grabbing days of yore. Thank God.

I've always been big boned. When I hit puberty, I bulked up quite a bit. I wasn't fat, per se, but by 14 I was 5'4 1/2 and 150lbs. Two things stand out for me from that time.

1. When I was 13, in 6th grade, I was more developed and "blessed", we'll say, than my classmates. The boys took to calling me Big Boob Bob. I just rolled my eyes at them and they stopped when I suggested, innocently, they call me 3B instead. It took me over five years to realize they were making fun of me, and why, and stopped when I took the fun away.

2. All through my teens my dad would call me "Miss Piggy". Now he says it was to "toughen me up" to taunts other kids might have used. Except that the kids weren't really that bad about my size. I was more critical about myself than they were, I realize that now. But it stuck.

Now I AM fat (still 5'4 1/2 but now over 300lbs) and I look back on my teen years when I was still in the 100s as being "in shape" and "fit" and question why the hell I thought I was fat.

I'm 27 1/2 and just realized the other day that I'm only likely to get fatter as I get older. I freaked because 1. it's not healthy AT ALL, 2. If my back hurts NOW, how much will it hurt with another 100lbs?! and 3. Obtaining clothes now is a hassle because of price issues and because they almost always now come from "specialty" shops for big gals.

But I can't lose weight. Last time I managed to lose weight I gained it all back with interest.

...and this has turned into a rant on a completely different subject. Sorry.

Thanks, ShelbyWoo.

Also, this article made me think of the community posting on "My Jiggling Sexiness, Or, How Fat and Fit Are Not Mutually Exclusive." (http://community.feministing.com/2008/07/my-jiggling-sexiness-or-how-fi.html)

Makes some great comments on the misconceptions of what being "fat" means.

I have too many stories to count. I think I went through nearly all possible phases of bodily self loathing when I was young. I was chubby-ish kid and short. My dad used to remind me that I needed to make sure I didn't get "too fat", because it would look worse on me because I was so short.

When I got to be a certain age I started looking at myself and thinking about taking a firm hand against the problem but never followed through. I then realized that if I didn't care enough to do anything about it, it must not be that bad. Thinking that enough times I convinced my self to tolerate, then like, and eventually love (most of) my body.

I was one of the last girls I knew in middle school who didn't shave my legs. My mom told me I was too young to start caring about that stuff. My hair was very dark and thick. When people found out I got made fun of so much that I snuck my mom's razor and shaved my legs in secret in the shower. I didn't know what I was doing and I cut myself very badly, leaving a scar on my ankle that is a constant reminder of not listening to the jeers of others.

I was a pimply pre-teen & teen. I developed faster. I had breasts and body hair by 6th grade. But I had bad acne until I was 14 or so and kids told me it was because I was dirty and didn't wash my face.

I had big poofy hair. The more I tried to tame it, the worse it seemed to get. Kids used to make fun of my "'fro" and throw gum in it. Once I was able to put it out before it stuck and they claimed it was actually buried in my hair. When I finally cut it super short I got all different comments, lasting until, well, now. People who assume that my hair style has anything to do with my sexuality.

I've become comfortable with how I look because I realized no matter how much I tried to change that there would always be stupid people who wanted to tell you that you're not good enough. I think it's a major part of being a woman- someone always feels the need to police you and put you in "your place". So since I can't please everyone, I stopped caring about pleasing anyone but me. I have a partner and he thinks everything about me is beautiful & sexy whether I try or not. I really lucked out with that one. Who could ask for more?

Wow, amazing how many of our stories are similar to each other.

Dolphin Donna: Sucks about the acne. I know how bad it can get. Even when you clean your face aggressively! It's hormones, and wearing make-up just makes it worse. I totally feel for you.

And I'm appalled by how many of people had mothers who'd get on your case for being fat. If anything, mom should be the one to understand how rough it can be growing up a girl.

I was on the subway late at night with two of my girlfriends, about a month or so ago. Three drunk men had approached us on the platform, and after a few moments of their dumb ass ramblings and lame jokes - laden, of course, with the requisite sexist bullshit that all such accosts are - the train finally came.

They sat down across the aisle from us and I suppose had become frustrated with their failure to woo us into joining them at some club downtown. They grew rowdier and started taunting me and my friends, waving their arms in front of our faces. And then one of them announced that my friend, "The blonde" was the hottest, and another shouted out "Now let's hear it for the one in red," at which they started hooting and hollering for my second friend. I screamed at them to SHUT THE FUCK UP, GO FUCK YOURSELVES - to no avail - and my friends told me to calm down. I told my friends I wanted to move, I was on the verge of tears and I didn't want these fuckers to see. They told me to relax, we were almost at our stop anyway.

When we finally did get off the train (I was so upset, banging on the sliding doors to fucking open already as the subway crawled into the station while the men continued to taunt me) I went off on my two friends. Why had they just sat there? Why was I the only one talking back to those men? They told me I couldn't get so worked up every time some drunken assholes hit on girls. It was unbelievable, I couldn't fathom their passivity and the excuses they were making for these men.

I avoided my friends for the next week and none of it was mentioned again. For days after, I starved myself because I felt disgusting and pathetic. I am disappointed in myself that it so shook my confidence in my body and my appearance when those men had cheered for my two friends being the hotter ones, while I was the hostile bitch with short hair and an attitude who couldn't take a joke.

When I was 12, and a bit chubby, my mom told me that if I didn't start losing weight soon, she'd be forced to take me to Jenny Craig. Although it's the only thing negative she every said about my appearance (that I remember), it stuck with me and had an impact on my self image until I was about 20. Even in high school I thought of myself as fat, despite the fact that I played on multiple sports teams and was a vegan, making it very difficult to even replace the number of calories I was burning everyday.

I don't know how it happened, but now I'm very happy with my appearance. I never wear make-up and dress in any clothes I feel like wearing. My body is very muscular, especially my legs, as I'm still very athletic and often lift weights. Instead of being embarrassed by it, however, I just smile to myself as a squat more than all the men in the gym.

I see that there are a lot of comments about people being teased by their parents/peers about being "fat" or overweight. I got made fun of for being on the opposite end of the spectrum. I've always been really small and skinny, I guess I got my high metabolism from my father's side. I remember in the middle school the girls were already talking about diets and only eating crackers for lunch when the nuns weren't paying attention. I never understood why my developing peers were dieting when A) they were so young and B) it's not as if they needed to. We were all pretty healthy from what I remember. Besides, there was no way in hell I wasn't going to eat something on pizza day!!!
But what stuck with me as a kid was that I was always teased for being skinny. I didn't reach 100 pounds until I was a Junior in high school. Kids were constantly telling me and others behind my back that I was anorexic or bulimic; eventually to the point where I just gave up defending myself. Along with my smallness came the age game. I didn't exactly look like a teenager in high school; many people thought I looked 12 because I hadn't hit puberty yet. I didn't have breasts, I didn't even start my period until I was 15. I had a cousin who would embarass me by asking strangers what they thought my age was even though it hurt my feelings. It's not fun to want to feel like you are growing up in a child's body; it hardly makes you feel attractive or confident.
But I think the worst was when I attended summer camp. A girl singled me out and throughout the whole week called me "Flatchest". My revenge was a little violent. I'm a great swimmer and can stay under long, meaning when I had enough of her name calling I held her under water longer than she could handle. It definitely wasn't one of my nicest moments, but I had had enough. She left me alone after that.
Here I am today, in college only 15 pounds heavier than I was in high school, and I still get the occassional "you're HOW old?" and my ID gets scrutinized every time I try and go to a bar. So in a way, I'm stuck with this. Yet, I've begun to appreciate that my body ages slowly. I just think of myself when I'm 35 still looking like I'm in my 20s. That isn't so bad.

Just to add a few more comments...

1) I noticed a lot of the ppl (parents) tormenting the readers were the fathers.

In my family, my dad was the one who actually was a lot more supportive of me than my mother. My mother since I was born, constantly criticized me and still does. I am fat, I have a huge stomach (which I actually don't) and that I look like I am pregnant. I can go on and on...

Sometimes when I know I can't hide my stomach because I ate too much (haha) or am wearing a tight shirt, I pull it off as if I were pregnant and that's why I have a belly. I don't know if this is a form of denial or pride? I say this, because as in my previous comment, I am pretty happy with myself and my body, but I still have some tweaking to do.

When you are a teen girl in American culture, boobs might very well be the holy grail. I waited and yearned for puberty so that I could be a “real woman”. Well, puberty came and went… and nothing. I remember a boy that I really liked wouldn’t date me because I was “flat as a board”.
UGH.

For the next four years of my life I wore uncomfortable padded bras and felt like a fake in my own body. I knew that I wasn’t being honest with myself and I hated the way I felt, but I couldn’t leave the house without my “boobs”. Feminism and feminist text saved me, thankfully. I realized I was giving into what society wants women to look like and I realized that it was bullshit.

I threw my padded bras in the trash and became quite vocal (perhaps in defense) about getting rid of them. I finally felt really proud and free….and I still do to this day

I was always tall, even as a kid. I stopped growing at 13, at 5'8, but was still thin. Not skinny; never was, never will be. But still, thin. And I stayed thin, for a long time, until I hit a pretty bad spot 3 years ago.
But then puberty hit; and believe me, it hit hard. I suddenly grew breast(and that didn't stop until I was 16, which leave me with the pain and joy of DD), and hips, and thighs, and since I always had a small tummy, that appeared a bit more too.
I really didn't feel that bad about myself, even though I felt a bid bad for having bigger everything that all the girls around me. Then, along came my mother.
I was eating more... because I was more hungry. But my mom convinced herself, somehow, that I eated too much, and that the 30 lbs I gained in a year were because of that, and unnatural.
Years later, I saw that the friends, and friend's mothers who told me my mom was jealous of me, were right. (Even though she probably wouldn't believe that was the reason she acted that way with me.) My mom never had breast before having me and my brother; as a young adult, she was still mistaken for a teenager, while I, at 14, was mistaken for 20 or higher (mostly because people are too busy with my body to take a good look at my face, but that is another story).
She was always there, telling me that if I eated just a bit less and exercised a bit more, all of this "fat" would go away. The worst of it? She really though she was helping me.
I now know this is a part of me, and won't disappear simply because someone want it too. Sometimes I still wish for it (like when I go shopping: a lot of the clothes, perfect on skinny girl, if I'm lucky enough for them to look good on me, will give everybody a good reason to label me "slut" because *gasp!* I dare to show that I have breasts!), but I don't struggle as much as I did back then. And I know that, if not for my mom, I would have struggled a lot less. And my weight wouldn't have been yo-yoing for the last three years.
I just hope I'll never do that kind of thing to the children I'll have. Someday.

Btw...on a side note (sorry about the multiple comments today, guys, I am a bit vocal), I just went to Victoria's Secret the other day and they give me a brochure for a new product they're coming out with... A FIRMING BRA!!! Can you believe it?!

This bra is supposed to firm and lift up your breasts within 4-8 weeks. A BRA! Implants, creams, etc etc are not good enough. A BRA has the "power" to firm your skin and lift your breasts higher!

Ugh...made me sooo mad!

The sad part is, women WILL buy it....

My father divorced my mother when I was three soon after my half brothers went to live with their biological dad. My mother who was a fulltime mom and activist went back to work to support her family. As a young person whose life was just ground up and thrown to the wind, I started to “eat my feelings.” This pattern of compulsive eating grew as I did into a large problem. My family addressed the issue of my eating as if it was my fault. Putting my preteen body on diet after diet, never seeing that I was eating to sooth and fill myself by the only means I had.

When I was twelve I moved to live with my father and being the proactive lawyer that he is, he sent me to a gym and set me up with a personal trainer, at twelve. The pressure was on and it seemed that now more than ever all of the attention was on my body. I lost a great deal of weight that summer, which was probably for the best. However, it did not stop there.

After summer was almost over my father told me we were going to go see my new school. This was true with the caveat that he had signed me up for the football team. I was a quite, gentle and introverted person. The idea of football was everything that terrified me. But, I did it and in the spring I went out for track. I had lost a great deal of weight by this point and was eating less and less.

There was just one small or rather two not so small problems, despite my “normal” body I had breasts. I had a “severe case of gynecomastia” a condition where boys grow breasts, in my case they were large and not going away. Since I was still thirteen my father had lots of hoops to jump through. But, the summer before I went to High school I had my breasts removed. I was slated to have more surgeries but did not. I have large scars across my chest and around my nipples, My chest is concave and still has breast tissue.

At this point my working out and eating problems had taken a large turn and my compulsions were now fixated on being not eating, or the ever so popular binge and purge. I never hated my body more that when I was at my thinnest. I moved back to my mothers and she was great, never judging and always telling me how wonderful I am. She is an amazing woman that is always trying to tell me I am beautiful while not realizing how beautiful she is.

I still struggle with my eating, I still have concave breasts and scars across my chest and I am chubby; and most importantly to everyone with similar struggles, we are beautiful; every roll, scar, stretch mark and bump.

I've had really positive experiences with my self image. I grew up having my family tell me I was beautiful all the time. My mom strongly believes that all children should be told how amazing, wonderful and beautiful they are on a daily basis.

To further prove that point, when I was in 1st grade I was student of the week. Each week the student of the week would get to sit in front of the class and tell everyone about themselves and then everyone would write a story about that person. I sat up in front of the class and said "My name is Grace and I'm gorgeous!"

My mother and family loved me and complimented me in a way that made me feel like I could do anything. I make it a point to tell my nieces and nephews that they are beautiful and wonderful and hopefully they will grow up feeling that way too.

Back in the mid-90s, the film _Emma_ had just been released and my mom and I went to see it. Afterwards, I remember asking her if I was as beautiful as the actress who played Emma (Gwenyth Paltrow). She said, "You're not beautiful, but you're pretty."

A couple years ago, I reminded her of that comment and asked her why she said it. She swore she never said it. If she did or didn't, that's what I remember and have carried with me.

Over the years, I've had moments of catching myself in a mirror or a reflection and thinking that I am beautiful. Those instances are coming more often as I get older.

I often wish my husband would tell me I'm beautiful more often, but I don't think it would really change how I feel about myself (I think he knows this and that's partly why he doesn't say it more often). It has really had to come from within and shutting up all those old memories.

Recently, I visited with a friend who was 8 mos. pregnant. Pregnancy has changed her face - her nose is bigger and she now speaks with a slight lisp. That freaked me out - not her looks, but the thought of my face changing when I have a baby. I'm beginning to love the face I've had for 30+ years - how long would it take me to love a new one?

I am not surprised by the length and similarity of these posts. We all share such pain on this subject. What has always gotten to me is how thinness is equated with success, drive and basically everything good (excess weight = laziness, etc.). I recently completed my PhD and moved back to my home town knowing that my educational accomplishments are overshadowed by the fact that I never lost any weight. I can guarantee that in this culture, I would be praised MUCH more for weight loss than academic achievement.

I have a unique perspective (I think) in that I felt very confident throughout my formative years. Not until University did that go downhill. Some gain the freshman 15, I gained the freshman 50. And seeing the world through 2 such different lenses is really eye opening. When I was in high school and I saw a guy looking at me, I would think he was checking me out. Now, I look to see if my fly is open.

All my writing and research is on the link between women's self-objectification and body shame resulting from not being able to live up to the media's (unattainable) ideal and how that leads to depression in women (and may, in part, account for the fact that women's life time prevalence for depression is 2x that for men) and I teach about body acceptance but the sad truth of the matter is that I would give anything to lose this weight. I wish I could be happy with myself the way I am (and apparently I give off the impression that I am) but the hidden dirty truth is far from it.

I sympathize with the trauma of adolescence and its lasting impact on body image. At 5'9" I'm a healthy size 8, and in the best shape I've ever been in in my life but still have trouble appreciating the way I look thanks to teasing and the resulting low self-confidence during my "awkward" years.

Still, trading in one bully's comments ("chicken legs") for another's ("refrigerator-repair-school dropout") seems beneath this author. After all, he was in junior high and you're an adult.

This is one of the things that I really love about feminist spaces, getting to read about and contribute life experiences that are rarely represented (and rarely represented in any positive way!) in any non-feminist spaces.

I think I first got my really bad acne in middle school - though I can't be sure because I never noticed it until a boy who was constantly teasing me commented on it. I remember him saying, "Why do you have all those pimples?" while staring at my face as if it was the most disgusting thing in the world and something I had willfully done. This was in class and that class was assigned seating, so I had to sit there and be bombarded with his crap all year. He later commented on my back acne when I was all dressed up for a special event, pointing it out to his friends and laughing. I thought I looked so nice and it was just crushing; I pretended like I didn't even hear him but it really shook me. Obviously, since it still hurts to think about it to this day. It didn't help that my new stepmother was also making comments about how I needed to wash my face more and even teaching me how to pop pimples without scarring (I ended up doing it compulsively and getting tons of scars anyway).

I still have a lot of acne, 16 years later, and I realized recently that if there is one thing I could change about the way I look, it would be my skin. I would love to have my husband touch my face more; hell, I'd love to be able to touch my own face more without having tons of oil come off on my hands and knowing that I'll break out there if I touch it for too long. But I don't hide my back acne as much as I used to (I still won't wear anything completely backless but I wear tank tops and bikini tops) and have realized that people who judge me by my skin aren't people I want to know anyway, so I don't worry about that like I used to.

On top of acne, I also have really crooked teeth because of a genetic predisposition for overcrowded mouths. I used to cover my mouth with my hand when I laughed, but somewhere along the line, I just decided that I didn't care. The fact that I naturally have "fangs" means that I have an instant costume if I need one! The only person who's ever really commented on straightening them is the dentist, which doesn't bother me because they are hard to keep clean. I just say, "Unless you're willing to pay for braces, I'm not getting them right now." I don't necessarily like the way I look with such crooked teeth but I can't imagine having straight ones like everyone else. It's kind of like Cora D said: these are the teeth in the face I've come to know and love.

I have very white skin, for which I was teased about all growing up. For the most part, it didn't make a difference on what I wore and how I felt because most of the people who teased me were friends. However, one day I was walking back home from the track where I'd been running. A group of guys drove by and one of them leaned out the window and yelled "Put some pants on whitey!"

I can't really trace my intense hatred of my skin color back to that particular moment, but I will tell you that even today, putting on a swimming suit or wearing skirts and shorts are things I only do once in a blue moon. I look at people whose bodies are much whiter or heavier or older than mine wearing shorts like it was nobody's business and I envy them for their bravery.

One step at a time. My goal is to be 85 and walking around in shorts, white and wrinkled, without a care in the world what anyone thinks.

I'm so glad that I'm not the only one who had a less-than-supportive mom! Not that I would wish that on anyone, but it's good to not be alone and have other women understand.

I really think that mothers who make these comments know exactly what it feels like growing up as a female, only they never managed to overcome the issues of their younger years. I know that my mom STILL has major body-image issues: she is 91lbs, 4'10 and constantly talks about having a "fat butt" and a "stomach roll." I always think, "If SHE is fat, what about ME? I'm 35lbs bigger!" If I don't work out for a day or two, my mom is shocked. If I eat something that isn't "healthy", like cream sauce or dessert, she is appalled. She'll even snap, "I thought you were on a diet" when I ask her to pass the sour cream. If I don't wear makeup, she asks if I am putting any on before I go out. If I wear my hair down and curly, she says how "messy" it looks. If I wear jeans to go out, she asks if I'm "really wearing that."

Now that I am older, in college, have had great friendships with feminist women and great friendships and relationships with men, and know I am healthy, I'm confident with how I look no matter what my mom says to me. You just have to remember that she's projecting her own insecurities onto you, and don't be surprised if it gets worse when you gain self-confidence. She's jealous of how self-assured you are.

Thanks to everyone for sharing these stories!

ps- My father, too, has always been more supportive than my mom and has even taken her to task for making nasty comments. He has told me that I am beautiful, that I have lovely skin, that I "look great" when I come home from college for breaks.

He has always seemed to esteem me based on my academic accomplishments and sports accomplishments, whereas my mom almost always appraises me based on my appearance.

Does anyone else think that might be generational? Perhaps when our mothers were young THEY were valued based primarily on looks. Hopefully our culture is coming to value young women based on who they ARE rather than on how they LOOK.

I have thick, dark hair. Because of this, the hair on my upper lip shows up a lot more than it does on blondes, edspecially since I have such fair skin. The first time I heard the whole, "you have a moustache" thing(like I don't already know it... Why do people think you're unaware of your "flaws"?) was probably in kindergarden or first grade. I heard it from then all the way to third grade, and still get it sometimes from my obnoxious peers. My father suggested (rather forcefully) that I wax it.
I said, no, I didn't want to, I knew it would hurt like hell.
He made me anyway, but had my mom do it. All the way until my teenage years he would check to see if the hair grew back, and tell my mom to wax it when it did.
I also have thick black hair on my legs, arms, anywhere it's possible to have hair, which shows up a lot against my skin. I've always been hairy.
Once my uncle remarked that I "need to shave."
I remember that would be the first thing people would use as an insult, and the pretty much the only insult I ever heard, oddly. Or at least, from people outside my family.
(I must be pretty great if that's my worst trait, right?)

Another time around third grade my dad told me to be careful because "it's easy for Mexicans to get fat." Which I now look back on and go wtf?
I was a a bookworm and didn't excersise much, but wasn't fat. I wasn't skinny either.

My father also calls me "socially retarded" and in the fourth grade suggested I go to therapy because I didn't like to talk and had no friends.
Like I didn't know I didn't have friends.
Someone once asked me, "You know you're always alone, right?"
No, I don't know. What the fuck do you think?
I still see myself as awkward, which I guess I am, but now I really don't give a fuck what anyone says about me.

My father seems delighted whenever I look the most like the "ideal Western girl", with straightened hair, dressed in "feminine" clothes, instead of the baggy, black, and boyish clothes I prefer.

I try to accept myself.
Most days I think I'm beautiful, or at least pretty, and I like myself. I don't feel the need to change myself to fit the standards of my father, my peers, etc.
My mom is incredibly supportive, and she loves her looks, wide face and pronounced cheekbones, and our curly hair and strong noses.
She helps me love myself.

Wow. Reading this post and the many comments left by all these wonderful strong women has really made me realize that I'm not alone in the struggle to reconcile the ideal societal body image with what I see in the mirror.

I had a really happy childhood growing up. I was a cute kid. I ate a decent amount I suppose, and I ran around a lot giving me that typical lean kid look. Around 5th or 6th grade though, I still was the undeveloped stick I was when I was 5. I remember many days when my best friends would tease me about my flat chest and how many nights I would cry myself to sleep praying for breasts. I knew that if I could only have breasts, my life would be perfect. I was so naive. Lol.

Eventually I did begin to develop in Jr. High, and for a while, I was perfectly fine with myself. I loved everything about me. I was absolutely in love with my curves--quite unlike most of the women I know. However, in Jr. High, my mom got really sick from lupus-related complications and was in a coma for about a week. She lost a lot of weight (mostly muscle mass) from her repeated hospital stays and to this day still looks like she just survived the second holocaust. I think this has more to do with an eating disorder she developed, all though my claims are unsubstantiated by more than circumstantial evidence and hunches.

If that wasn't bad enough, my mom started teasing me incessantly about my breasts, and my general body type. I knew it was just because she was jealous (and she was--having no breasts left at all) but it didn't make it any better. One day she started calling me "the fleshy one in the family" and soon after that everyone was calling me "fleshy" (of which I was not. I was actually very skinny for having curves like I did). This hurt me so deeply. I had never thought of myself as fat or even "fleshy". But now, with my own mother thinking I was fat, what did it mean OTHER people were thinking about me? My mom should have known better--eating disorders run in our family.

By Junior year, I was eating less and less. Senior year, I developed full blown EDNOS (Eating disorder not otherwise specified). I was 5'6" and had lost 30 pounds in the matter of a few months. At my lowest I weighed 98lbs. My friends all started to worry about me, my teachers asked me if I was ok, it was only my mother who seemed completely unconcerned and detached.

My dad finally stepped in and got me therapy, and I'm doing a bit better now. 110 and still kicking. I look in the mirror everyday and I have to make an effort not to stare at what I perceive as fat. I tell myself it's ok to have luscious curves. The irony in all this is that my mother finally got her wish. I went from an overflowing 38C to a 34A. I remember praying every night for breasts like I used to have and I wonder what my former self would say to me today if she had the chance.

I hope that when I have kids, they will never have to go through the same mental torture I went through.

I have many. I was always taller than the other kids, and had a pad of fat just under my belly button. I was NOT fat. But the other kids called me that so much, I believed them, no matter what my parents said. In about grade 4, one kid was handing out cookies. She handed me a crumb and said, "You're on a diet". That hurt.

Around that time, Mom took me to a doctor because I was having trouble with my back. He called me Pudge, and told me to lose the fat. That was it. I would never believe Mom again.

When I switched schools, somehow it got worse. Kids would sing the Weird Al song, "I'm Fat" when I walked in, pretend there was an earthquake when I was jumping rope, etc. When I look at pictures of myself then, I just blink and wonder how I could have believed them. I was *thin*. I wasn't even chubby.

Mom and Dad never really said anything negative to me. But I knew fat = BAD. One thing that really stuck with me. We were at a wedding, talking with one of my cousins. After she left, Dad said something like, "That Donna, she's just great. So funny and friendly. Too bad she's so heavy!" I was floored. I just stared at him, and he had the good grace to look embarrassed by what he said. I only weigh about 15 lbs less than her. I knew then that Dad would have liked me to be thinner. That really hurt.

I'm regularly asked when I'm due. I'm pregnant now, but wasn't showing last time I was asked.

I'm still not okay with my body. Not even close.

Hmmm. I was always perfect-looking. Size 2, perfect skin, well-proportioned.

And I got so much horrid male attention, it was unbearable. Boys would stumble over their words trying to talk to me. Or they would behave so arrogantly - as if I was their property. They would insult me - say things on the street like "you deserve to be raped". I remember one time I was trying on clothes with my mother. I was 12. And these teenage boys were crowded around outside the dressing room, commenting when I came out :jailbait is the word I remember. I sked my mother what it meant. She said nothing. My mother didn't say a word to them. Just let it happen.

What these comments prove (again) to me is merely that childhood harassment, whether from parents or peers, is pretty universal--not that everyone has these experiences, but that it doesn't matter what the reason is. Deviate from the physical ideal in any way and you will attract the attention of the haters. Deviate from the social ideal in any way (especially by asserting your own personality and not caring what others think) and you are punished.

I am so happy and proud of those of you who have had your ephiphanies! But not all of these posters have been able to shake off the damage. I wish I could hug each of you, and flip off your tormentors.

My mom, who suffered very badly in this way, felt that the only key was to liberate yourself from caring what others thought. She went beyond the "forget it, all children are cruel" stuff, though. She taught me that no matter what I did, the haters would find something to hate and bug me about. More importantly, she taught me that none of them really care; they are not concerned with me as a person but as a target. Why should I spend all evening crying about what someone said to me when they've forgotten they even spoke to me?

I don't really hold even the evil high schoolers of my memory responsible for the things they said and did. We were all under pressure and didn't have sophisticated survival techniques. Most of them grew into adults who would never do that now. And I wouldn't have expected, as in one example, a lone boy in a locker room to defend me against the rest of the crowd. Many of us have childhood/teen memories we're not proud of--even those of us who suffered occasionally contributed to the suffering of others. But in most cases we need to forgive them and forgive ourselves, or we'll carry that nagging voice around with us forever.

Can you imagine what we could accomplish if positive comments had the same trajectory effect as negative ones in determining how we feel and act?

I have a couple of things:

Too much arm hair. I used to hide my arms all the time because many people made comments about it. But now when people point it out, I make sure to loudly react as though I had never noticed that my arms were hairy. I can only hope this saves the next person they meet from a rude comment.

Large breasts. I can hear your groans from here, but I was a C-cup in the fifth grade--otherwise very proportionate for my age--and boys would ask me to turn sideways and pull my shirt tight, or grown men would make graphic sexual comments. Female friends and relatives would accuse me of "sticking them out" whenever I tried to employ proper posture, and I still hunch over to this day, twenty years older and two cup sizes larger than when I first grew breasts.

Adam's apple (and other masculine traits). Somehow, I ended up with a prominent bone in the front of my neck that looks like an Adam's apple. As I've gotten older the skin is looser and hides it more, but I remember wearing high-collared shirts because boys made comments about it. When I'm not wearing makeup, I must look masculine, because (despite my breasts, apparently) I've had children ask if I'm a boy or a girl.

I've actually gotten past many of these traits to realize that I am not what I look like, but when I am weak--particularly when I meet a man I'm attracted to--all of these "ugly" parts bubble forth to the front of my mind. I may have never noticed them, if not for the helpful words of some ignorant people.

The good thing is, most of us here are probably very careful not to make comments like these to others. As a mother, I am careful to only make positive comments to my children, about their abilities, their kindness, their mental strength, and yes, occasionally, about how lovely their eyes are or how beautiful their smile is.

While my mother certainly said many hurtful things to me growing up, it was her actions that have left indelible mark on my self esteem.

When I was in elementary school, my mom and I would often share a change room when we were trying on clothes. I had to watch as she poked and pulled at her skin, calling herself "fat", "disgusting", and "worthless". (She was a size 6-8, by the way) She would often start hitting and punching herself, digging her fingers into her skin, and sometimes even hitting her head against the mirror. I remember feeling so scared and helpless.

I have no doubt that these experiences drove me to starve myself for most of my life. Even now, at 5'7 and 110lbs, I have a hard time looking myself in the mirror without hearing the words my mother used so violently against herself.

My mom has always been 'concerned' about how skinny I am. She kept sitting me down to talk about being anorexic when I was a teenager- admittedly, a gawky, awkward-like-a-baby-horse teenager, but not anorexic.

Throughout high school everyone commented on how skinny I was- envious girls, flirting boys (or vice versa). Now at 21 with a slowing metabolism, I'm frantic to keep from getting an adult body because it seems that skinny is my best asset- or at least one of my more remarkable features. And I'm a proud raging feminist too, oops... My point is, you pound it into a kid and they start obsessing about their weight, and it's a hard cycle to break.

Greenmayo:
A group of guys drove by and one of them leaned out the window and yelled "Put some pants on whitey!"

I got this all the time in high school, too. I can even point out messages in my yearbooks where "friends" mentioned things like "have a great summer and get a tan!"

It took me a long time to venture out in skirts and short shorts because I was always worried about strangers doing the same mocking "Ahh, I'm blinded" joke that I got when I was younger.

But after spending years in jeans out in 90 degree heat, I got sick of it. I'd finally came to the realization that I'd rather be pale and face possible snide remarks than overheat and sweat like a pig!

I used to be very self-conscious about my small breasts when I was in junior high/early high school. All of my friends were developing and my best friend was probably a C cup by 6th grade. I couldn't buy all of the cute colorful bras that they all had because they didn't fit me. I remember one of my guys friends always picking on me about my small breasts. By the age of 16, once I developed a little more, I could finally fill out an A cup!! Yay!

I used to be so embarassed but after hearing others complain about problems they had I turned these complaints into positive aspects for myself. I don't have any back pain, I can run without them "flopping around", and I can sleep on my stomach, which most of my bustier friends can't do because it's painful.

Now I feel like my small breasts are part of who I am and I wouldn't want to change them for anything. I find it disgusting how young girls have this idea that developing breasts and having a period makes them women and without them, they're some kind of androgynous creature.

(P.S. Kudos to Keira Knightly!!)

During my first year of high school in health class, a kid looked at me and said "you're really hairy." I was devastated. Before that I had shaved my legs and under my arms, but from then on I became absolutely obsessed with hair removal. For years I never wore shorts because I was convinced I was a monster and my legs were disgusting.

It is only recently, say the last three years (I'm 29 now), that I have finally started to feel pretty. Part of that has been having a loving partner who tells me I'm beautiful. I wish I had had more of those positive messages growing up.

Reading these comments made me think of all the similar stories I have - having to do with weight, acne, and boobs - and I then I remembered that I've technically had plastic surgery.

I say technically because it's still hard for me to call it that since I didn't have lipo or a boob job. I had jaw surgery and a nose job(but I didn't realize the nose job part till 4 yr.s later). My face was really long because my lower jaw was long & stuck out (so my bottom teeth were in front of my top). I had the surgery when I was 14, the summer before 9th grade. I remember wishing I could have it sooner because I hated the way I looked so much. They cut bone out of my jaw to make it shorter & push it back, and they took the bump out of my nose just for the heck of it! Now I don't know if one of my parents asked for that part behind my back, I just remember going to the doctor's office at 13 and him showing everything they were going to do, he said "and we'll take this extra bone out of your nose so you can breath easier, don't worry I'll give you a cute nose." I didn't argue 1. I was 13 and he was a doctor, he knew best, right? 2. being pretty = success with my parents so partly I wanted it.

I think back on the surgery now and wonder if I would do it again if I was promised the same results - I honestly can't say. The recovery was awful, 5 days in the hospital and lots of throwing up & blood coming out of my nose, but I'm very confident in my looks now and don't know if I would be if I hadn't had the surgery.

So I actually have a positive story to tell! I'm a collegiate field hockey player, plus I'm naturally blessed with gigantic thighs and a very curvy bum. On a 5'1 white frame with a small chest, I'm the ultimate pear. I've gone through a few ups and downs with loving my body, but as an athlete who can do mad squats, I'm now very proud of my figure. I think something that really affected my body image is my mom. She's got a very similar body shape, but has never been athletic. My hips and butt really exploded out of nowhere when I was in middle school, and I was getting self-conscious about friends' and boys' noticing comments. I specifically remember my mom telling me, "Sandy, from my experience, most men love a big booty. Believe me, you will have no problem finding a man to appreciate that.....And especially black men." Though that's not very PC, it did make me feel a lot better and learn to look at my body as sexy and curvaceous, with something to offer. And though I look very different from most the girls on my team, I fully embrace my booty. And my mom was right about the guys, too!

I pretty much got the bonus pack of 'socially unacceptable' traits: pale skin, red (curly, poofy) hair, freckles, a large nose (broken when I was younger), and a large body type. At 8 or 9 I went to the pool with my mother, a favorite place at the time. I remember seeing her look affectionately at a group of girls a few years older than me, then glancing uncomfortably at me. She said in a hushed, embarrassed tone..."You know, you could have a flat stomach like them if you would just do sit ups." It was the first time I was aware of my body as "good" or "bad", and it was fun to realize I was apparently in the "bad" category.

When I hit puberty, I hit hard--at 10/11 years old (sixth grade) I suddenly gained the body of a large chested 15 year old (I think I blossomed to a B cup, and finished high school with a DDD). I also started getting acne at 11, which led to a "socially acceptable" classmate scrutinizing my face in the middle of a group and loudly declaring "You have a ton of pimples". That, coupled with other comments, led to me wearing a lot of makeup throughout my adolescence, and eventually developed into an OCD skin-picking issue that took over a decade for me to recover from.

As far as size is concerned, I remember sitting with my knees drawn in sixth grade and having a boy loudly describe me as a 'tree stump'. I remember being objectified by a plethora of older men who mistook my 11 year old body for that of a woman's. And I remember in high school, a male peer telling a buddy of mine that "someone" (meaning me) was infatuated with him (I was not). When my guy friend asked if the secret admirer was good looking, the other guy replied (while glancing at me): "She's by no means hot, but she'd be good for a tit fuck." That one stuck with me for a long time.

I agree with others who have expressed gratitude for the comments in this thread. It is nice to know I wasn't alone, although admittedly, the comments and messages I received as a girl and adolescent caused some very serious self loathing that I've only been able to shed in recent years. I'm happy to say that I've learned to accept and love myself without regard to my appearance, and my husband has helped nullify any past belief that I am "only good for a tit fuck".

I remember when I was about 10 I started puberty. I had breasts before all of the other girls, a big bum and a shapely belly. The breasts only stopped growing about 2 years ago (I'm 25) so I'm now a 38FF, although my bras can be a little tight in the cup at times even at that size.

I only found my first sports bra in my size recently, so hated PE in schools. Being made to run in an ordinary bra, not to mention the stupid short skirts and socks that left my thighs bare to rub together and my arse on display for all, really sucked. The movement of my breasts made me catch my breath, so I ended up being one of the slowest runners. To be fair, I was always more of a squat, bulky beast meant for endurance and strength rather than speed, but my school wasn't big on contact sports for girls.

The other kids would always make fun of me for being so slow, and so rubbish at sports, and it gave them even more ammo to throw at the "stinky, ugly fatty" that would get bright red from running, more out of embarrassment and discomfort than exhaustion.

Even now, I hate exercising in front of other people, or in public. I love lifting weights, but won't even let my OH see me if I'm doing sit-ups or anything aerobic.

I have that kind of body where my breasts are naturally low on my chest. Turtlenecks are not a good look on me.

When I was in the seventh garde, I had jsut started developing breasts. A boy in my school told me that, for having such small breasts, they sure were "saggy." What was wrong with me?

I was absolultely humiliated. EVERYTHING was wrong with my breasts. They were tiny, and, tragically, not perky enough. I was 13 years old.

I wouldn't say I developed an eating disorder, but I did become obsessed with what I ate from them on. I wanted to lose weight so that my horrible breasts would disappear. I lost enough weight so that I stopped getting my period, and then gained about five pounds back, so that I would mensturate again (after all, if I was getting my period, I didn't have an eating disorder, was my thought).

Ironically, later, when I become tired of playing the food game, I decided to become super-sporty (since it was 'okay' for athletic girls to be flat-chested). I joined the track team and volleyball team, two decisions that dramatically changed (for the better) how I viewed myself and my body, and probably had an impact on my own health even today.

My ethnicity is very complex. I'm biracial ("black" and "white") with some Cherokee, Irish, etc. thrown in. Besides being called chicken legs in my 6th grade gym class by boys (who were clearly in love with me), I've mostly been teased about my hair and the way that I talked. "You talk white" and "You speak proper(ly)" were two phrases I heard from family, school peers, and random strangers. I used to contemplate pouring hot water down my throat to make my voice deeper and less valley girlish. I also smoked lots of pot and cigarettes and besides the obvious joys of both, I also hoped that smoking would change the way I spoke. I HATED to hear myself on an answering machine. Once, a girl on the bus told me "She needs Just for Her cause Just for Me ain't workin'" referring to my unruly mixed kid hair. I stopped letting my mom allow people to braid weave into my head around the 4th grade. I made up funky hairstyles and was severely teased for it. It also didn't help that I liked rock music and dyed my hair black.

My mother has repeatedly accused me of being a lesbian to the point that I now make an extra effort to prove my heterosexuality when I'm around her. I comment on how hot a male actor is or I tell her about some guy that I think is cute at school. She takes my interest in GLBT rights, saying I don’t care about marriage, feminism, and drawing naked comic book characters as proof that one day, I’ll come out to her. She also complains about her wide football shoulders, which I have inherited, and I notice my mind slipping to develop the same insecurities that she has. It’s a tough battle, shedding your mama’s conditioned shame.

One more thing, two older female friends once laughed at my armpit hair before I was even aware that I HAD hair there. Needless to say, I was obsessive with shaving unwanted hair until I started working in a progressive environment where several women went au natural.

To the person that said if you want body hate, take ballet:

I was the fat kid and I took ballet for years. At a very snobby studio.

They did an annual production of the Nutcracker with some local (Buffalo) ballet company.

One year, there was a sign in the dressing room that said "if you are thin you may try out."

I might add this was about a week after I had asked when the auditions were (and was unceremoniously ignored).

When I was in my last two years of high school, I suddenly gained about 50-60 lbs because of medication I was taking (and a few emotional issues). My mother clearly and openly thought I looked awful and embarrassing, and would frequently tell me I needed to lose weight and give me tips on weight loss. She would comment on every bit of food I put into my mouth.

I've since lost all the weight (and my body has decided to re-proportion itself into more of an hourglass-shape as I'm getting into my 20's) but my mom still finds some way to bring up how absolutely awful I used to look. I've become so ashamed of that time in my life that I have nightmares that I'm gaining weight again and not a day goes by that I don't think about it. I'm afraid to lose the shame and fear of my former self out of a belief it will cause me to start gaining weight again. I am all for body acceptance and I want everyone to love their bodies, but I'm too afraid to allow myself any of that.

I also dated a guy for a year who would constantly criticize my physical appearance. I remember everything he said and internalized it pretty thoroughly. I wasn't winning any self-esteem awards to begin with, but he just took it down so many notches. I still think about what he said every time I look in the mirror.

LolaLola,

I'm 25 and people think I'm 15 (though, sometimes a 16-year-old boy. HA!)

I think we should be happy that we'll always look ten years younger than we really are. We'll really appreciate it once we hit 50, I think. ^^

I don't know how many times my mother said, "I weighed 103 pounds when I got married [at 26]," with a great air of pride. When you hear this sort of thing over and over as a child, it seems like a normal thing that people would say. It took a long time for me to realize how profoundly sad it is to regard that as some kind of major accomplishment. And even longer to realize it was part of a continual message of fat = shameful.

Mom and Dad lived for many years on the other side of the duplex my spouse and I own. One time we were talking and she made a direct comment about weight I had gained. Such a comment was unusual--she either realized that overt fat-shaming was a bad thing or that I am a contrary enough personality that it would probably backfire! She seemed very upset and worried. I was chubby, probably 25 pounds above median BMI for me at the time. She finally said with great emotion, "If you think I'm going to stand by and let you get like Paula, you've got another think coming!" Her friend Paula weighed about 400 pounds and experienced many weight-related ailments.

I was stunned on several levels. One was that she had this weird apocalyptic idea that somehow I would be tripling my weight in any kind of time frame she could possibly see (she was over 70 at the time) after my having gained about 7 pounds a year over the past few years. But more disturbing was the fact that she had an idea that it was up to her to "let" me do anything in regard to my own body. Bear in mind I was over 30 at the time.

From other comments over the years, it was clear that she had internalized the notion that parents were almost totally responsible for how their children "turned out." If a person committed a crime, got a college degree, had a happy marriage, got divorced, whatever, a huge amount of credit or blame accrued to the person's parents. So if I got fat, it reflected badly on her, on how she had raised me.

My husband said that one time he had a conversation with her in which she asked him what his reaction would be if I gained a significant amount of weight. His response was that it was irrelevant to our relationship and he would only be concerned by any health issues if they cropped up in consequence. Instead of telling him that his attitude was healthy or nice, she just stared at him as though he were insane, like that answer did not even compute. Maybe she thought he was lying. (He wasn't.)

Last year, I lost 50 pounds. I wasn't trying to, it happened for both positive and negative reasons. I see Mom, now 81, twice a week when I take her out to eat (she lives in a nursing home). She's so much more proud now to "show me off" to the other residents and nurses than she was when I was larger. Sigh. She's a product of her time.

Afterthought: I thought things would be getting better in our society regarding body image and its relative importance in self-image, but the comments here from young people reporting the crap they've gotten from their mothers and fathers is disheartening.

I look back at photos of myself as a teen and in my early 20s (41 now) and my primary thought is, "My God, I was attractive and had no idea." I thought I was fat and ugly and undesirable. It was a double layer of crap: I thought being fat was terrible (which it's not) and that I *was* fat (which I wasn't anyway). Thankfully for my self-esteem overall I had a lot to offer in the intellect and personality departments, but the effect was for me to live too much in my head and neglect my relationship with my body, which I am just beginning to really be comfortable in.

As a middle-ager, I beg all you lovely young women out there to realize your own beauty, to celebrate it and revel in it in any way you find fulfilling to you. Be femme, butch, athletic, pampered, voracious, indolent, whatever floats your boat. Enjoy your body, take care of it, lavish love on it. Life has enough physical challenges for everyone as you age, even more if you encounter disability or disease. Free your mind from its hobbles as much as you can.

It's really interesting reading all these, although sad that so many of them are negative stories. It makes sense, though... when the culture tells us from day one that we're ugly, fat, undesirable etc., we only need one person that we're close to to repeat that before we begin to believe it. It takes a lot more work to go the other way.

I've been mostly lucky, but I still had one story that instantly came to mind. I was about 15, and had this white friend, M, who thought Asian guys were totally hot. Okay, whatever. Eventually it came to me through the grapevine that M's mom had found out about this one day and gotten really mad at her, telling her not to marry an Asian guy or else her kids would be ugly. Well guess which of M's closest friends happened to be half white and half Asian. Her mom knew me, saw me around the house all the time, and apparently she thought I was fug. These days I know that she's an incredibly shallow and unhappy woman who basically made a career out of emotionally abusing her children.. M's older sister who had a nice curvy figure was taking diet pills at 16; M herself at a size 0 was just "ugly", and her little brother, since he was basically adorable and body image wasn't the best point of attack for boys anyway, was "stupid". At the time, though, it really upset me... I think I knew better than to actually believe I was ugly because of my racial mix (though I thought I was ugly anyway for other reasons), but I've always had a lot of problems with my identity and that incident certainly didn't help me feel wanted. I think if I ran into the woman today I would slap her.

Like I said, I don't think that many people have one defining moment for positive self-esteem just because it takes way more than one event to begin to build that, but these days my boyfriend tells me I'm beautiful so often I roll my eyes at him. In fact, a lot of the time he does it while I'm snarfing down a burrito or something because I "just look so happy" when I'm eating, which used to irritate me, but wouldn't it be great if that was the message we got about food and beauty from day one?

Oh man, I had forgotten about this. In elementary school, there was this boy *Ryan* who I had kind of a crush on. One day he told me I had a "huge hairy mustache". I kept my shirt collar pulled up over my nose and mouth for the rest of the day. My mom would take me to get my upper lip waxed, but it was painful so I decided I'd just shave it and not tell anyone. Over a decade later, still shaving!

"Yes, I find that kind of delightful. So sue me." had me chuckling.

These anecdotes make me really miss that time where I was actually completely unaware of my body or what I looked like. There was nothing to "come to terms with" when it came to my body because, when I was very young, I just saw it as the means of getting me from one place to another - that sometimes got scraped or sunburned or dressed up in jeans or dresses - and not as something that was definitive of me at all. I had no idea, really, what pretty was or if I happened to be pretty. And that, in retrospect, was pretty great.

I have so many of those moments.

does anyone else have asymmetrical boobs?

my right one is almost 1/2 a cup size bigger, and has been since i first hit puberty. its not really noticeable unless i'm not wearing a bra, but i agonized over it. one day in high school i was hanging out with my best friend (who had a great rack) at her house, bra-less, and she said "aww, yous nipples don't even point in the same direction! you're left boob isn't big enough!"

that still hurts.

there was another time that the same friend informed me, like it was normal conversation, that i was smarter than her, but she was prettier than me. I realize now that i should have taken that as a compliment (it was true) but it CRUSHED me for such a long time.

I believe I've posted about this here before, but what the hell: I've always had bad skin. One year when I got my high-school class pictures in the mail, I found that my mother had, unbeknownst to me, checked the box asking them to airbrush out my flaws. I appear in that picture unfreckled, unshiny, poreless, acne-free, and roughly the color of Silly Putty. Thanks, Mom. That's the one she carries around in her wallet, too.

Although maybe I owe her and my aunts and sisters a thank-you for showing some restraint about my undaintiness throughout my life, because those times when they have succumbed to the urge to lament my hairiness or weight or clothes or what have you, their voices were filled with enough despair to account for a couple thousand bitten tongues. I suppose it's preferable to hearing how ugly you are every single day, but there's something else about suddenly finding out that someone has seen you that way for as long as you've known them, especially when it's a member of your family.

I took dance when I was little, mostly because I wore casts as a baby (my legs got all folded up in utero) and I needed to get some leg strength. (It wasn't put like that to me at the time, though; I think I was four when I started.) I was and am a rather gawky, thin, awkwardly built person, with long thin legs, big feet, narrow hips, a big rib cage, wide shoulders, and long arms and hands. Soooo a bit weird looking. I remember at about eight when we got our new dance costumes for the yearly recital, I watched two girls who'd put theirs on preening in the mirror; sort of showing off to themselves, acting grown-up and flirty with their own reflections, and I remember resignedly thinking that I wasn't going to be able to do that. I wasn't "right."

I was generally ignored, something I tried to achieve, but a few times, I wasn't. I remember the boy I had a crush on asking me on the bus why I didn't shave my arms. Thankfully, I wasn't convinced by this to shave them. I remember the day in middle school where I decided to wear capri-length leggings under some jean shorts -- I didn't wear shorts after a while because I was conscious of being thin. Well. The older kids on the bus pointed out how thin I was as I got on. That was the end of shorts for years and years. Even now when I wear skirts and flats, I catch the disdainful smirks women give my legs.

In middle school, the least popular cheerleader, who was called "the fat one," got annoyed with me for changing out of the way in the locker room. "Why are you hiding?" she asked angrily one day. "No one wants to look at you!" Well, DUH, the point is that I didn't want anyone to have to look at me.

My parents and the rest of my family were never rude to me in this way, and they didn't go overboard trying to convince me I was pretty, either, because I wouldn't have believed them :-P

I should have clarified, she happened to be a cheerleader; this was regular gym class I was changing for, nothing related to cheerleading.

I feel the most beautiful when I'm naked, either alone or with a partner, and especially when I'm having sex.

4th to 5th grade I was mercilessly teased, mostly for my "big" nose. My moms advice was to ignore them and they'd get bored. They didn't. We ended up having to MOVE so I could change schools but by then I had purging type anorexia.
I got my period the year my sister got boobs. We were cruel to each other.She called me "cereal box" and I'd punch her right in her developing breasts!

I've battled eating disorder the past 14 years. I remember in 8th grade a girl asking if I was pregnant. I have never even been chubby. When I was pregnant I was so underweight I thought those missed periods were from weight loss and didn't know I was starving my child for 4 months.

I've been in recovery (again) since April 3. I am so grateful I have a son because I'm afraid my own body issues would make me a terrible mother of a daughter.

4th to 5th grade I was mercilessly teased, mostly for my "big" nose. My moms advice was to ignore them and they'd get bored. They didn't. We ended up having to MOVE so I could change schools but by then I had purging type anorexia.
I got my period the year my sister got boobs. We were cruel to each other.She called me "cereal box" and I'd punch her right in her developing breasts!

I've battled eating disorder the past 14 years. I remember in 8th grade a girl asking if I was pregnant. I have never even been chubby. When I was pregnant I was so underweight I thought those missed periods were from weight loss and didn't know I was starving my child for 4 months.

I've been in recovery (again) since April 3. I am so grateful I have a son because I'm afraid my own body issues would make me a terrible mother of a daughter.

Sorry for double post!

Courtney, I was just trying to think of that myself. Other than the acne thing, I feel like I'm pretty secure in my body, and I wish I could just make everyone feel as good about themselves as I do.... I have the advantage of being rather conventionally pretty overall, though, so I don't know how much of that self-esteem is real self-esteem and how much is just being able to fit myself into that predetermined mold. Either way, here are the three things I try to do for myself that might be helpful to someone else:

1. Every time I find myself looking in the mirror or at my own body and thinking that it's ugly, I try to change what I am thinking and remind myself that I am actually beautiful.

2. When I really start to get down on myself, I check my posture. Sitting up straight makes me feel more confident, like the body language I put out is somehow speaking back to me.

3. When neither of those things work, I exercise. Using my body, feeling what it can do and how amazing it is, and using that to get my mind off of what I know to be ridiculous thoughts is so refreshing; it works every time.

Kathryn, you are not alone! I have scoliosis so I'm not sure if one boob is smaller or flatter or both. I stopped wearing bras because of it; they would always end up halfway over the smaller/flatter one. Lucky for me, they are pretty small in the first place so no one seems to notice - and now that I don't wear bras, I don't really notice either.

Great topic...

My story: I was 14, in ninth grade, and 98 lbs, a size 2. I was at school waiting for my mom to pick me up. A group of male athletes cornered me, and told me that if I "lost ten pounds," one of them would ask me out.

Cue the five year eating disorder.

Looking back, I realized this comment was meant to fuck with me; they were making fun of how skinny I was. But at the time, my insecure adolescent self did NOT process it that way...I thought they were honestly saying I was fat, and I believed it.
More importantly, today I would laugh at the thought of losing weight in order to get a boyfriend - I'm a lesbian.

Still, it makes me angry, livid, to think about how powerful this comment was at the time, and how millions of teenage girls are being similarly taunted, with dangerous consequences.

Great topic...

My story: I was 14, in ninth grade, and 98 lbs, a size 2. I was at school waiting for my mom to pick me up. A group of male athletes cornered me, and told me that if I "lost ten pounds," one of them would ask me out.

Cue the five year eating disorder.

Looking back, I realized this comment was meant to fuck with me; they were making fun of how skinny I was. But at the time, my insecure adolescent self did NOT process it that way...I thought they were honestly saying I was fat, and I believed it.
More importantly, today I would laugh at the thought of losing weight in order to get a boyfriend - I'm a lesbian.

Still, it makes me angry, livid, to think about how powerful this comment was at the time, and how millions of teenage girls are being similarly taunted, with dangerous consequences.

I first realized that there was something "wrong" with my body when I first developed breasts in the fourth grade, and cue endless teasing about stuffing my bra with toilet paper, pudding. You name it, apparently I was stuffing it in there. This was made even worse by my mother, of all people, buying me bras from Frederick's of Hollywood, because obviously any self-respecting fourth grader needs to wear that kind of racy lingerie.

In middle school, I thought I was fat and ugly, but when I see pictures of myself now, like a lot of us, I think, "Oh my God, I looked great!" At least my body did...the Coke bottle-size glasses weren't exactly my best fashion choice, but we live and learn.

But out of all the experiences that shaped my body image, this story sticks out the most. In high school, my best friend, who is absolutely gorgeous, half-Philippino and about 115 lbs, and I were told by a mutual male friend that the perfect girl would be my brain in her body. It not only completely damaged the way I saw my body, but it destroyed her, seeing as she's had to prove her entire life that she's not just a pretty face. To this day, we both carry scars leftover from that guy's comment.

sorry to post again...I thought of some more moments...

The time I has a photo of Drew Barrymore on my folder because I liked her, and a boy in my (seventh grade) class told me she was fat.

The time a fitness instructor came to speak at my summer camp, and warned us that "when women get older, their arms get all jiggly and flabby."

The time when I went on vacation to Mexico with my grandmother at age 15 or so, and a group of adult men stared & catcalled at me...in front of her, when the two of us were taking a walk. I felt vulnerable & humiliated. I was mad that my grandma was made to feel uncomfortable. I was angry that my body - my female body - would invite this type of public shaming, so I went further into a dieting spiral hoping to eliminate any signs of womanhood.

In 6th grade a boy on the bus called me a "big fat fucking bitch." It hit me like a slap in the face. I remember that I felt different about myself from that point on.
My mom bought me two different kinds of diet pills when I was 14 or 15. It was her idea. I went to the "vitamin" store with her, and before we went in, she told me that we had to say that the diet pills were for my aunt, not for me. She fucking knew it was wrong, but apparently it was more important for my huge size-8 ass to lose weight than to be healthy or honest.
I went through 4 years of bulimia hell in college. When my parents found out, my mom told me that she couldn't handle any more drama from me (we went through a lot because I was sexually assaulted in high school and kind of lost it, but didn't tell them why. They just thought I was being "bad."), and my dad told me I was being stupid. I just hated myself more and got better at being bulimic. The only reason I finally stopped was when I had to have over $5000 worth of dental procedures, including multiple root canals and crowns.

I don't even care if anyone ever reads that. It feels so good to just get out in the open. I kick ass now!

Ahh, so many names I recall being hurled at me in middle school: chicken legs, gorilla arms, Bert (referencing my budding unibrow which is now plucked meticulously).

I'll share a good image-shaping moment. When I was working my first job as a cashier at Target, a woman going through my line asked me if I was a model. Lady, if I were a model I don't think I'd be working here, but thanks!

Mommy says that my hair looks bad, that I should dye it chesnut brown, it would go nicely with my eyes and cut it short. When I wear my long blonde hair tied back in a bun or braided, she however says that I should wear my long beautiful hair loose for everyone to see.
Mommy says that my sun allergy isn't one, that it's actually acne caused by my obesity. How she knows? Her sister has sun allergy too, and the rash is different. Apparently, my dermatologist just wasted 10 years of life at the medical school and ten more years of practice as a dermatologist.
Daddy is a plain guy, he says plainly I'm obese and ugly. The other day, we were moving some heavy furniture and he claimed that I was totally out of shape when I couldn't carry a bed alone.
Mommy says that I'm obese and that I should lose 15 kilos. When I was some 20 kilos thinner, she used to say that I'm obese and should lose some 15 kilos. When I was anorexic, she would say I'm obese and should lose some weight.
Both parents say that my knees don't hurt because of injuries but because I'm obese.
Both also say that my acne is caused by my obesity (what was that what I said about my dermatologist?). They also claim that my allergies are caused by my obesity.

This has been going on for some 20 years. From my own parents. No wonder that I was anorexic some ten years ago. I'm not obese - by the BMI thing I'm overweight but with my physique (heavy boned and muscular), I was hardly ever in the normal BMI range, even when I was thin so I don't take it too seriously.

Oddly enough, at school and elsewhere, I'm thought a cute blonde who, being a cute blonde, cannot have the smallest piece of brain. I have a strong suspicion that my dissertation supervisor thinks it, too. Little things like knowing five or so languages, getting the master's in four years instead of five and such, apparently do not count, the pale stuff growing from my head says it all.

You never win.

I've experienced a few things in my life which include family members telling me I need to put some meat on - even though I'm not skinny and never have been, I'm just a nice normal slim UK 8-10 and I have no problems with that - but those sorts of things make me feel awkward, like I'm supposed to feel bad for being slim...and I know that if I did put the meat on - through my own effort or not - then the same people would have something to say about being chubby.

Well. So now I'm 26 I have few body hang ups on the outside, but there is one thing that panics me, and is always on my mind, following something three exes have all said, at different times. I apparently have a weird vulva and my clit is 'too big'. The most recent ex said it worst: that I must have had so much sex with so many random men that I've stretched everything out and it's all ugly. He told me there's too much skin and weird extra bits. That he used this 'fact' as proof that I was a slut, while at the same time begging me to stay with him, is just one of the ways I know he is a complete sociopathic control freak, but it still bothered me at the time and now more than a year after I dumped him. Even a usually very lovely ex said something like I have a big clit and this might scare off some boys (he said this at a time he was trying to bring our relationship to a close). One reason why this 'problem' I have bothers me so much is because I have no way of knowing whether I am abnormal or not. I don't know what other women look like. I once asked a different boyfriend whether something was wrong with me, and he firmly said no, and all women are different. Yes, I had to ask a man if my female body was normal. I have wondered whether something I have done has caused this (I know it's not from having 'too much' sex or too many partners, that'd be ridiculous!) and something I read about masturbation in a lesbian erotic novel also made me feel bad, and it gets so that I worry about starting a new relationship in case the guy is put off. My current casual partner has never said or indicated anything bad whatsoever, but this stupid and evil ex is still getting to me. It's taken me a while to decide to post this comment.

Jo Jo: Please please PLEASE read this page and the entire website (click "all topics" in the top left corner):
http://myvag.net/blog/2007/06/14/000217.php

I discovered it in my first year of college, and it is literally what made me start loving my body instead of just tolerating it and criticizing it. I've recommended it to several friends, and it relieves all of their hangups. Plus, the woman who runs the site, Sara, will answer questions that you email to her! It's an amazing resource, one of the best things on the internet.

Well I have both the high metabolism issue and a snarky comment - but to be honest I'm pretty sure there's been a lot more that I've forgotten about. There's one comment which was negative, and one (very) positive - which both significantly affected my views of myself. These are, of course, separate from that constant word the jocks can never stop saying ("ugly") which I heard rather often during my adolescence (one such boy saw me the other day and could barely close his jaw, take that!)

The negative one was from another girl in my year, a girl who nobody liked but who nevertheless acted like she ruled the place (you know the type). One day she came up to me and said something along the lines of "Oh my God Anna, your arms are sooo hairy, what's wrong with you?" I got very upset and that night went and shaved my arms. It seemed the logical thing to do, with adolescent thought dictating the following:
"Oh my God. She thinks my arm hair is disgusting. She's really pretty. She must know what is disgusting. If she thinks it's disgusting, so must everyone. If everyone thinks it's disgusting, nobody will want to be near me. I need to get rid of this hair, what's the fastest way?" and so off came the hair, shaving-style! The next day the same girl (whose name, funnily enough, was Vana - awefully close to the word 'vain') started teasing me because she saw that the hair was gone and teased me mercilessly.. needless to say, many tears followed. You can't ever win with that stuff!

The good comment which was said (though it's sad that I needed to hear it) was when I was in the midst of slipping into anorexia nervosa, as in the meals were slowly disappearing off my daily agenda, when a classmate of mine saw me get up from a chair and just stopped in her tracks and said "Geezus Anna, you are SO THIN".. and she wasn't saying it in a good way, either. That comment really woke me up and stopped what could have been a much worse situation.

I've been very lucky though to have a mum who would help me with appearance things if I asked, but who never attempted to force anything on me. And a Dad who insisted I was beautiful no matter what I was wearing or saying about myself. Though when that thought almost got in the way of me getting braces to fix up my crooked teeth and overbite.. well it was just annoying then! Still I've always had a great family and I definitely think that without them I would be a total body-image wreck!

i remember being at the dermatologist's office in middle school for something completely unrelated and my mother asking him to prescribe me acne medication. even though i didn't want it. even though i told her before i went in not to ask.

around the same time i remember being at the mall with her and being made to go up to the make-up counter in some department store and get my skin color matched for concealer/powder/whatever. i never wore any of it and it ended up being just a big waste of money for her but it really upset me. i remember sobbing uncontrollably later that week and my mother getting upset with me when i told her why i was upset.

I will always remember what my Dad said as we watched Kristy Yamaguchi win the gold medal in figure skating: "She looks pretty healthy for someone with such fat thighs." It wasn't a comment about me, certainly, but it set the standard in my mind of what was fat and clarified that women's bodies (even olympic athletes) face constant scrutiny. She won in 1992, so I would have been 7 years old.