life: acne.

my dearest friends, mis-guided miserable souls of the world, i know that this entry is long. but i also know that every single word is important. i thank you SO much for reading, and please, please finish it.


i'm sure you've been on the beach before, hon.


you've seen those obese women on the beach. the ones you ignore because they don't belong there. so you avert your eyes.


but u know what?

they don't give a f*ck what you think about them.


they don't give a d*mn what their stupid little scale reads, they don't count every single french fry they eat, and they couldn't be happier.


while you're stuck here. counting every, single, miserable calorie in that non-existent salad you just forced yourself to eat.


which you will burn off running like a lunatic on the treadmill AFTER you've calculated in your little shallow brain how long it will take to burn off running at 15 mph.

BE THAT GIRL ON THE BEACH!! 


don't mistake me. i'm not encouraging you to run down to your nearest mcdonald's and scarf down two big macs plus a large soda.


honey, listen to a teenage girl that's been through it all. i've been overweight, had acne (which is now under control), and now am currently in the process of getting braces. in sophomore year of high school. meaning they will NOT be off by senior year.

but i'm fine w. that b/c i'm confident w. who i am.

let's talk about YOU.

you need 2 stop obsessing. the pimple did not ruin your chances w. the football team's captain. it did not ruin your perfect date. your extra flab did not keep you off the beach. it did not keep you from fitting into the perfect prom dress.

you did.

you said freaked out, like you do every single morning, and said to yourself, "oh god.  look at my acne. look at my face! i gained weight! he would never ask me out!"

you can keep on staring at the mirror, asking yourself, "why am i so ugly?"

you can keep looking at the numbers on the scale, but they won't budge. maybe it's broken. why don't you try a few more times? go ask to borrow your neighbor's scale maybe?

by the time you've lost the two pounds, you'll want to loose two more, and two more until you're nothing but a sad little toothpick with only ONE goal in life: to loose two more pounds. those numbers don't bite, and they don't ruin dates either. surprise surprise!

cause you know what? those stupid little numbers on the scale are so friggin important! they ruin your entire life! 

so go! hide in a closet. and don't come out. don't come out until you've lost every single pound. 
until you pass puberty.
until that face fixes itself. 

 all you care about is that stupid little face.
and those numbers on the puny little tag that goes on your shirt.
the truth is, your world only consists of a little bubble filled with a scale, a mirror, and a plastic surgeon.

let me remind you hon, of reality.


WHAT GETS YOU THROUGH LIFE IS YOUR ATTITUDE. IT's not your face. it's not your bust. not those stupid little numbers on the scale that hold so much power over your life.


when you loose your job, when you go through a break up, when a loved one passes away, your acne-free face does make it hurt less. your size zero waist does not comfort you. your DD breasts will not get you a man that loves you for who you really are.

YOU CAN DO ALL THE PLASTIC SURGERY YOU WANT. go ahead and be the botoxed grandma at 67.

for all i care, you're doing the economy good, and keep plastic surgeons in business.

new york.

i have a distant aunt (that's two) in n.y. her name is kae.

my grandmother visited her, and she asked her, "kae, why do you drink less milk now?"

she replied, "because milk makes me fat. my tummy is too fat."

my grandma thought it was cute. my mom thought it was cute. i thought it was horrid. being a two year old little girl, being told you're fat. she has 3 older sisters, who are all teens now. they exposed her way to early. beauty is cruel. but so is reality. when it hits you upside the head.

when you all of a sudden realize that size 6 is too big. that your face needs fixing. when you realize that you don't "belong" in a swim suit.

you shouldn't be told when you're a little girl not even in kindergarten yet that you are too fat. that you need to stop eating.

this is the way the future will be.

little girls barely out of their cribs, told they are too fat.

too fat to be pretty.

too ugly to ever have a boyfriend.

i'm seeing a good future for all those cosmetic sergeons out there.

i'm seeing a race of puny humans that are more shallow than little puddles on the sidewalk. their small little worlds only consists of a mirror, and a scale.

they NEED other people. they NEED to be loved. by others. they NEED to be told they are beautiful. by strangers.


because their OWN OPINIONS ARE NOT IMPORTANT. because what they think about themselves is irrelevant.


but what about a little something called self-esteem?


what about the one thing you can't see in the mirror, looking back at you: your self-image?

once upon a time, there was a little girl that was over-weight in elementary school. she had no fashion sense, refused to wear jeans, and wore stretchy yoga pants to school, and always wore her hair in a pony tail even though it did not flatter her face.
she had horrible acne, and she was me.

i remember being at a distant relative's party one time: "that's her daughter. the fat one."


even my own aunts that i knew did not mean it, said it to me: "____, you gained weight!"


my parents cared more about my acne-ridden face than me: "wow, ____, look at your forehead!" "you grew a new crop!"


my mother would spend hours fussing over my acne, caring more than i did about it.

now, i'm crippling shy in school. i've always been called "quiet" by teachers. my parents ask me why i don't talk.

but ever since i got into high school, i've been surrounded by lots of out-going friends classmates. i don't call them friends b/c i don't have a close connection. to any of them. if i did not talk to them about school, there would be nothing else in to talk about. it's them that helped me come out of my shell. just a little bit. i'm still very much a wallflower; a mouse. part-time nerd, full-time geek.

flash back to me, post-acne: 

my cousin in 6th grade asks me every. single. time she sees me: "____, how did you do it?"

"do what? loose weight?"

"yeah."

"kate. stop obsessing. you're not even pass puberty yet! i honestly don't know. i had a growth spurt, and i just did. i stopped with the excuses i kept feeding myself about why i didn't exercise.

i stopped eating out of boredom. i noticed i would eat whenever just because. because there was nothing to do, because i knew the food was good, but you know what? the food is always good. that doesn't mean that i have to eat it. i'm not gonna miss out."

[my parents own a restaurant, and ever since i was a little girl, i would ask for food, and i would get it. i was surrounded by food, and i didn't know how to curb my eating. i ate when i was full, i ate when i was bored, i ate when i wasn't hungry...i ate just because i knew that the food my dad made looked good]

her mother would call her fat. she would say that she needed to loose a few pounds. she would ALWAYS criticize her hair.

i know that she doesn't mean any harm, but i know that it hurts.  

it hurts when your own mother calls you fat.  

it hurts when your mother tells all her friends that her daughter is fat. "yeah, look at our kate. she's like your son and needs to loose weight too!"