The first guy I ever dated used to call me 'Breasty'. I was sixteen and stupid. I was barely sixteen years old and I laughed it off like it was nothing. It never occured to me at the time that the reason he called me that was because that's all I was to him. That's all he saw when he looked at me. A pair of breasts. And I let him because he called me pretty and beautiful and sexy. Because I was so starved for attention that I would take anything I could get. I would do anything for him, for his affection. He pushed me into things I wasn't comfortable with, things I wasn't ready for and I went along with it because I didn't want to lose him. I ignored how he treated me because I thought so little of myself. I wish I could say that after him, I learned my lesson. That after him, I realized that my self-worth wasn't dependent on what another person thought of me.
But he was only the first step on my way to loving myself, of realizing my self-worth.
I am here now and I no longer need anyone's validation. I no longer need them to tell me that I am pretty or beautiful.
I don't need them to love me because I love myself.
YOU ARE READING
Tales of an Unremarkable Girl
Non-FictionShort stories from my life, letters and texts that I never sent, arguments that I've had with myself and things I will never say out loud
