"You smell musty"

My mom got heavily involved in drugs when I was growing up, and I often had to fend for myself.

When I was in 9th grade, she took off and left for 3 weeks while I was at school one day. I was home alone for that time. The power and my cell phone got shut off during that time. I didn't tell anyone, I just kept going to school. I thought I was doing okay on my own until one of my friends told me I smelled musty. I wore wet clothes to school because I couldn't dry them.

It was the first time that I realized that it was obvious I wasn't put together. The guidance counselor pulled me into the office and asked me where my parents were and why I was losing weight. I couldn't tell anyone that I ran out of food and my mom left me no money.

I am grown now with a family of my own, but I still think back to that day. I know my son will never have to endure those feelings, but I can't help but feel terrified that there's a chance.

"I really thought you'd be better."

I had dreamed of being a musician from the first time my fingers touched the keys of a piano at age 3.

My father bought me the ugliest piano at auction for $10. It was the one I chose.

My parents paid for piano lessons when they could, but my love for music really took flight once I'd reached middle school and could sign up for band class. I chose the alto saxophone with the intention of moving on to the baritone sax as soon as I could. I lived, breathed and loved that sax, carting it to and from school with me on the bus every single day. Once I was old enough to drive, it was my passenger every where I went.

When I turned 16 I started working full time, trying to help the family make ends meet. Even though I worked until 1am, mine was the first car in the parking lot at school every morning, waiting at the door to be let into the band room so that I could practice before school started.

Music didn't come easily to me. I had to work hard at every song, every note. I had an ear for it, but my sight reading was my weakness. I knew even then I was never meant to be a solo player, I was meant to be with a band, whether concert or jazz, carrying it along. I worked my 40 hours and when I could, paid for private lessons with a college graduate whose choice instrument was the bari sax. I chose a music school, knowing I'd have to audition. My two best friends and I drove the 5 hours and I seemed to hold my breath the entire way. 

The morning of my audition, I was the first person in the building practicing my piece, Prelude by Bach, a beautiful Cello solo that had been transcribed for the baritone sax. I waited for my audition, half an hour past my appointed time. The head of the woodwind section of the school greeted me while still chewing. His excuse was, "I was eating lunch."

He continued to eat through my whole audition, never saying a word. When it was over he looked me up and down, took a bite of an apple and told me, "I really thought you'd be better. Are you sure you want a career in music? "
I thanked him graciously, returned home to keep working at my job, and I never played again.

Yet my fingers remember the feel of they keys beneath them, and my heart has not quite forgotten how to soar with a crescendo. I have not forgotten how to dream.

Virgin Mary

I've been sensitive and insecure for as long as I can remember. But I didn't know how sensitive and insecure I was until someone pointed out a flaw I didn't know I had. 

I was what they would call a "church girl." I went to as many church functions as possible and I absolutely loved my church family. I also had one simple promise I made to myself that meant a lot to me. I was going to stay a virgin until the night of my wedding. 

I had no idea that over half of the world did not share the same thing with me. I thought it was so common to be a virgin.

Until one day it started to be something that was used as an insult against me. I got called things like "Virgin Mary," "prude," "chastity belt". 

Being a virgin was no longer something to be proud of. It was just another thing for me to hate about myself. 

"You could die for all I care"

It was my sophomore year in high school. I was a cheerleader, I had the best of friends in the world and my grades were awesome. What could possibly make this year anything less than awesome? How naive I was.

About halfway through the year, my best friend and I got into a huge fight. So bad that it made me contemplate suicide.

When someone tells you, "You could die for all I care," you start to think about things in a different light.

After our falling out, my life starting to change drastically. I started to see myself differently. I hated so many things about myself. I started to notice how big my nose was. How my bottom teeth are crooked. How my stomach isn't flat. How thin and brittle my hair was. I started to pick apart all these things that I hated about myself all of a sudden. All because someone who I thought loved me told me she wouldn't care if I was dead.

I am now 21. That girl and I are no longer friends. And I no longer let what people say about me get to me. Because I love myself and that's all that matters.

Lesson learned.

I was raped and forced to tell my mom.

Her response:

"Well I hope you learned your lesson."

That response screwed me up almost as bad as the rape itself.

Loser.

I was in high school and we were on our way to a volleyball game. I turned to one of the gals on my team and ask if I could have her number in case of practice changes etc. She told me she doesn't give her number to losers. I didn't talk to anyone else the rest of the night.

"You just aren't the pretty girl"

A few years ago, I asked a guy out who I really liked. It was after months of flirting and other more intimate things. It was really hard for me to work up the courage to do it, but I thought that for sure he liked me and would be more than delighted to say yes.

But he never responded. 

I knew he was busy with work so I just shrugged it off, until I found out that he had just recently started dating someone else.

A few months later, I asked him why her and not me?

His response was something I will never forget: "You're a great girl and we have chemistry, but you just aren't the pretty girl I want to be with."

That diminished all my self esteem for a long time.

It wasn't until recently that I had an epiphany: if he was willing to overlook the chemistry and date someone based on looks, it goes to show how little he thought of himself, not me.

I am currently in a relationship, and it is beyond great to know that someone loves me despite my looks. I do sometimes think about the other guy when I feel bad about myself, but I try to stay positive and remember all the good I have in my life.

"What does this remind you of?"

When I was in middle school, a few girls who I had grown up with and used to be friends with started being mean to me.

One day around Christmas, we were on the bus on our way home from school. I had bushy and thick eyebrows at the time because of my heritage. One of the girls, who was wearing a fuzzy rimmed Santa hat, came up to me and stared at me for a second, and started pointing at my eyebrows. She then pointed to the rim of the hat and said, "What does this remind you of?"

She immediately started laughing with a few other girls as they exited the bus. 

I was embarrassed and ashamed. I asked my mom to take me to get my brows done. I was still unhappy with the results, and now, at 26 years old, I obsessively style my eyebrows myself.

I have gotten a lot of good compliments about them, but in the back of my mind, they have to be "perfect." 

"Won't hurt the baby"

I went in to an ice cream shop with friends, and asked the person at the counter whether the Kahlúa ice cream had any alcohol in it.

He said, "Nope, won't hurt the baby," with a smile. 

I was not pregnant. 
Just chubby.

"Too fat"

I was an active fifth grade girl. Average build and outgoing. One day at the pool an older boy told me I was too fat for a bikini.

For the next five years I wore suits that covered my stomach and wouldn't show a lot of skin. I still have self image issues.

It didn't help throughout high school, my "BFF" would tell me that they needed to remodel the school to fit my fat ass. She would tell me to stop eating and poke my stomach.

I look back at my high school pictures and wonder how no one noticed how sickly I looked.