I told her of the numerous jeers and "i-am-just-joking" nasty jokes all around me from friends and even from family. I told her of the nasty suggestions made by people who were meant to protect me.
I told her how I dreaded going to school not because I didn't enjoy the classes but because with every class that I enjoyed came with it jeers and nasty jokes flying all over me.
I told her how I couldn't fit into any group in school because no one wanted "that slim girl in blue house." in their group. I told her how I became a lone wolf even with people around me.
I told her how I became insecure and was almost at the point where I was ready to do anything, to give anything to be accepted. I was tired. I was troubled and certainly, I was helpless.
I told her how I didn't feel comfortable being the center of attention. Then, she told me she didn't know. She noticed that I became withdrawn She noticed that I wasn't the playful and active girl anymore. She noticed that I stopped doing many things and started doing many other things, things I wouldn't have done on a normal day.
She told me she knew about the pictures. She told me she knew about the jeers. She told me she knew about the nasty suggestions and jokes. She told me she knew of my hesitation to go to school. She told me she knew my fears. She told me it was that fear that she saw evidently that made her pay special attention to me.
The fear that I would never be good enough. The fear that I would never be accepted in any group in school despite my intelligence. The only thing that made me have a upper hand in school was the fact that I was brilliant, extremely brilliant. Whenever it was time for test, exams and assignments, that was the time I would have multiple friends like a bee.
I nursed that fear for long that I didn't know when I started getting lost in it. But then, she told me:
"You're loved."
Oh, how I cried that day. How I cried that I was fighting a battle no one sent me to fight. How I cried that I was using the hatred and bitterness in my heart to relate with my sister. How I cried that I had believed the lie people said about me. How I cried that I drowned myself in their words allowing them to ring in my head. How I cried that I was almost becoming lost because someone said something out of carelessness.
How I cried when I remembered that I hadn't had a good time with my sister for years because of the bitterness. How I cried that I hadn't allow us to bond as sister should. How I cried that I hadn't allowed her to enter my world.
She told me the problem was not with my sister. She told me I wasn't even the one with the problem, so even if I had had crippled legs or big eyes, I was simply not the problem.
She told me my slimness wasn't disastrous as many made it to be. Some merely said it to make me eat better because they felt it was the fact that I was a picky eater that caused my slimness. And some said it because they were equally jealous that I could lift myself swiftly and do many things they couldn't do, things like climbing anything easily, running without looking tired, having the energy to do the things they couldn't do.
And then, lastly, she said many said it because they felt bad because they couldn't have what I had and so, because they couldn't have it, they decided to say nonsense about it.
Of course, those were the words a teenager would love to hear.
She touched my sides and I laughed in her embrace. That was the time my sister walked in.
Just reading this for the first time? Go to my post and read the first two series.
Love is a beautiful thing. Also, a gentle reminder to be careful with your words, don't body shame anyone no matter how close the person may be all in the name of jokes.
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