Type: beautiful

Age 12:

In the summer of 2009. A sunny day, out on the beach, the cool breeze and a sandcastle in the making.
She comes up to me. All of her 4 ft something in a pretty bikini and toned body. That summer was the first time someone told me I was a "FAT" girl.

In the winter of the same year when a white coat covered everything and we existed under layers and layers of clothing. A chubby girl, with all her curves and folds comes up to me and tells me that I am the most skinny girl she has ever seen.

Age 15:

I was confused about the side I belonged to. Was I skinny was I fat. If I had love handles why did my bones pop out of me. I was too fat to join the cheerleaders & too skinny to hold up a sousaphone. I just didn’t fit. I was the boundary line between two identities. The line that never belonged here nor there. I was unidentified, uncategorized.
And In a world as such anything that defies logic or defies a type is looked down upon. Is considered unnatural, is said to be abnormal.
I was abnormal.

Age 18:

When things got out of hand & my demons began to scratch at my soul, I wanted to fit in so badly I tried making changes.
I have been through everything. From pressing down on my thumb for a gag reflex just so I can throw up better. To an unbuttoned pair of jeans under the dinner table.
From surviving on water for weeks to finishing 4 pints of ice cream in an hour. Choosing tea over food and enjoying the deliciousness of a 4 cheese pizza.

I have seen my hipbones almost cut through my clothes and I have seen my tummy bloat up, doubting if I was 6 months pregnant . From bat wings and double chins to loose wrists and existing paper thin. Skipped meals and skinny jeans to trick or treats and broken dreams.

Today I turn 19. Out with my mom to self pick a dress for an up coming wedding. The woman at the store comes up to us and asks me for my waist size and I smile and say “ 27' and beautiful”

It’s not about the way you look or how much you eat. The brand you wear or the places you’ve been. In the end we are all just dangerous people. Made of the same brains, veins, blood and bones. Only our skin and city separating us, and even that is there only for us to identify ourselves. Not look down on each other.

So now when you are asked about what size you are or how much you weigh. You look at them in the eye, count to 5, smirk, lean in like you’re about to tell them ‘the secret of eternal happiness’. ( and you are) and now you say

“<insert answer> and beautiful”.