Maybe One Day…
I was born and raised in Texas. I am part of a middle-class, traditional family. A mother, a father, and a sister. My parents have been married for 51 years. My sister and I are as close as two people can get without being in the same body. We were raised in the Baptist church. I have four college degrees. A Bachelor’s, two Master’s, and a Doctorate. I have two great jobs. One full-time and one part-time. I make a decent amount of money. I have my own house and my own car. I helped raise my niece, who is in grad school, and am now raising my 13-year-old cousin since his mom’s passing. He’s a wonderful little guy, and while my house is way too small for my sister, my niece, me, and my new little guy, we are making it work.
You would read this first paragraph and think, “Your life sounds great. You must be a very happy person.” This could not be farther from the truth. In school, I was bullied a lot. I could always hear whispers about my hair or my weight. The boys never looked at me. I even had a few teachers comment on how ugly I am. One teacher said after I had helped her with a task, “If you can’t be pretty, you can at least be helpful.” I told her, “Thank you.” Then went home and cried myself to sleep. Over years of hearing how ugly I am, I began to believe it. And not as a woman in my 40’s, ugly is all I see. I’ve tried for years to lose weight. Tons of diets. I love working out and, for the last six years or so, working out at my gym three days a week. However, I never lose weight. I have visited six doctors to find out what’s wrong with me, and they all say I’m fine. They tell me I don’t eat enough. One doctor put me on appetite suppressants for three months to see if I was telling the truth about my lifestyle. You should have seen his face when I still had not lost a pound after three months on those pills and brought him a copy of my check-ins at the gym. Not one. His response was, “Hmmm. I don’t know.”
As if being called ugly all your life and overweight most of your life was not bad enough, I woke up one morning with Bell’s Palsy. I went to the hospital, where they did all sorts of tests to make sure it wasn’t a stroke, gave me some steroids and antivirals, and told me I would be fine in a couple of weeks. A year and a half later, I am still not fine. I went to a neurologist that never looked at my face but constantly talked about how fat I was. He said, “Just leave your face alone, and it will heal. It is still not healed. So, I went home in tears from my last appointment with the neurologist, thinking that I am not only ugly and fat but now ugly, fat, and deformed.
Everyone around me says I look fine, but I know the truth. I have a sweet boyfriend of the last three years that is very supportive. But even he said, “It’s ok that you look the way you do.” He was trying to be helpful but just reinforced what I already knew. He loves pictures; I die inside whenever he wants to take one with me. I don’t look in mirrors. I even cover the one in my bathroom with a towel because I can’t stand to see my face or body. My job requires me to present in front of large groups, and I am so ashamed to stand before them. I am smart, successful, caring, and funny. I love to help and uplift people. I try my best to live my life for others because I believe a life not lived for others is not much worth living. But all I can think is maybe one day, someone will be able to figure out why I can’t lose weight. Maybe one day, someone will figure out how to heal my Bell’s Palsy. Maybe one day, I won’t be scared to look in the mirror. I may even actually like it. Maybe one day, I can stand bold before my audience. Maybe one day I can smile next to my boyfriend in pictures. Maybe one day, the person I am on the inside will show up on the outside. Maybe one day…
For anyone who feels even a little like I do. Stay prayerful. Stay strong. And keep hoping for the one day.
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