My Permanent Reminder, Everyday Obstacle
When I was a young age of
four,
I wanted to understand why the other kids could run
faster and l o n g e r
than I could.
When I was
six,
I did not know why the big, bad
fifth graders
would point and laugh at me.
It was not until middle school that I understood
the words those kids left on me,
I would soon leave on myself.
The words clustered in my head;
F A T,
WORTHLESS,
UGLY,
I could not escape them.
As I cried in my room wondering
not about how to cure my
UGLINESS,
WORTHLESSNESS,
or F A T N E S S,
but how to make the
voices voices voices voices
STOP.
The small tool used to achieve
today's society's perception of
beauty
turned out to be the perfect tool I needed to
fix
myself.
Finally, I could remind myself every day
the reason I will never belong to the rest of society.
Permanently sliced into the skin on the side of my calf
was the word I am more familiar with then my own name:
F A T.
I was only
thirteen,
but already introduced to
"society's expectations"
of my appearance.
Today, I am happy.
I am about to:
- begin my senior year of high school with a 3.8 GPA,
- celebrate my boyfriend and I's two year anniversary,
- celebrate my daughter's first birthday
so, I suppose you could say, life doesn't get much better than--
WAIT.
As I sit in my living room,
watching my daughter crawl and discover the world,
I cross my legs and see the reminder.
It's been four years since I made the mark,
but it still hurts the same.
There, in the skin of my calf, is the word I thought I outgrew:
F A T.
The word slices into my heart and soul more than my leg.
For one day, when my daughter is old enough, she will ask me,
"Momma, when did you get that owie on your leg?"
Will I tell her it was when I was
- four and I could not run fast enough
- six and I was being laughed at by the big, bad fifth graders
- or when I could not make the voices voices voices voices go away
I let the words of few make a permanent reminder on my body.
The reminder is not just when I look down at my leg,
but it's when I allow that someone,
who loves me and thinks I am beautiful,
to get close enough to me and kiss my skin
and see the word that I fear he will believe.
I am not
F A T,
but I am left with a permanent reminder of the darkest days of my past.
I have learned my lesson, but I cannot undo my actions.
I am *blossoming* into someone I never imagined I could be.
I am a mother who knows my strength
and will fight my weaknesses,
my everyday reminders,
because that is how I will prosper and bloom.