Growing Up, Body-Shaming
You Don’t Fully Own Your Body
Every person who left a mark on you is sharing that ownership
Do you remember the first time someone commented on your body?
No, not that time. The tight jeans and the biker jacket looked good on you and the guys painting that house made sure to let you know, but that’s not what I want you to remember.
I want you to go back in time. Way back. You can do it, you’re a grown woman now, and you can do whatever you set your mind to.
Ahh, yes! That’s the memory I wanted.
You were just an eight-year-old child. And he was your uncle.
“Look at your body, you’re starting to get some tiny breasts. And you have a moustache and eyebrows that could make some boys jealous. That’s so funny!” My uncle
No, it wasn’t funny. It still isn’t, when I think about it. It never will be.
I was only eight and yet, I remember that day vividly — a family party at my paternal grandparents’ house. That was the first time a man commented on my body and my looks, right to my face while laughing. I never liked him, I still don’t and avoid him like the plague.
