The Strive To Be “Normal.”

All girls, at some point wish that they could change something about their body. They wish they could loose those extra five pounds, or change the shape of their nose, it is that desire to be perfect blocks the ability to see the beauty in the imperfect, the naturally beautiful you.

Unfortunately for me, I too was a victim of “wanting to be perfect”, but in a very different way.  Soon after I turned eleven, I began to be more aware of my deformity, there was no hiding it, it was clearly there. I used to spend so much time in front of the mirror evaluating my deformity, bending over, grabbing it, and wishing some how I could just cut it off.  At the time I felt as though I could deal with the curvature, but the deformity made it visible, made it so much more real. My desire to hide my imperfections, and to look perfectly normal, led to me making a conscious decision to gain weight. I remember thinking that if I were a bigger person, then my curvature would be less visible, and all I wanted was to look like everyone else. It became much easier to gain weight and hide my deformity then to deal with it. If no one would notice it, it meant that some how it wasn’t really there, it made it less real.

I remember the day I realized that my plan was not as effective as I thought it would be. I was in fifth grade, I was tall and big, and  I felt on top of the world.  That day, began like all the rest. I had taken the bus to school and once we arrived, I gathered my things and waited for my turn to get off the bus. Stepping off the bus, I had back-pack in hand and I began walking to my class room. I paced myself, trying to extend the minutes between getting off the bus, and making it to my class. When suddenly I felt someone behind me, and soon after I felt the gentle touch of the two hands that pulled my shoulders back, and a voice that softly said, “you should work on your posture, your hunching over.” It was one of the teachers at the school, who I am sure didn’t mean anything by it, but at the time it was as if someone had pulled off my blanket and exposed me to the world.  She could see it, and if she could see it, so could everyone else. I had nowhere to hide, I was exposed.