Full Disclosure Friday (Not Just a Pretty Face)

When I started Full Disclosure Fridays, I intended them to be a very honest glimpse into my life and emotions. Granted, I’m pretty much an open book anyway (um hello, yesterday I told you I peed my pants while jump roping), but you know what I mean. So far most of my disclosures have been embarrassing stories, but today I’m taking a different path.

I told you guys the other day that I found my old diaries. A lot of them had pages ripped out (I would kill to know what they said) and some of the stuff was mindless, funny even. However, I came across an event that has truly shaped my life and how I’ve viewed myself, and it hurts so much to look back on it. I’d like to share it with you.

If you know me in real life, you’d know that the compliment that makes me want to kill puppies and crash cars into trees is someone telling me I have a pretty face. Let’s pause for a moment for me to assure you I would NEVER kill a puppy. Unless I smothered it with kisses. But I digress…what on Earth is the problem with someone giving my face a compliment? The problem is the inherent ‘but the rest of you…not so much’. I have a very specific reason for feeling this way, and when I found it in my diary I cried to see how shattered and naive 13-year-old me was.

Here’s the story: I had been talking to a boy on the phone, a boy my friend knew from her school. I had never seen the boy, but ohhhh was I in love! We talked on the phone for hours every day, probably about nonsense but enough to fill my little heart with hope. I said things like “he’s so funny and sweet” and “he thinks people should be in love before they go all the way just like me!” and “my stepfather is going to kill me when he sees the phone bill”. Anyway, I went to my friend’s school dance to meet him for the first time. The date was in February 1990. I had a stomach full of butterflies and tight acid washed jeans on. I was still self-confident enough to only be concerned with how I cute I would think HE was. It honestly never occurred to me that he wouldn’t think I was awesome. (Oh, to be a confident young man eater again.)

Rather than try and describe it, let me take the liberty of writing exactly what I wrote. Please don’t laugh…this is my heart you’re hearing from!

I hate Mike C.! He is such an asshole!! Okay, let me back up. I met him Saturday nite and I thought he was okay but not gorgeous! Plus, he was drunk! Nice life, huh? He ignored me all night. Then tonight Steph called him on 3-way. (He didn’t know I was on). He said that I was a fat shit-but I had a pretty face-ASSHOLE! God, I hate him! I cried all the way to CCD and while I was there. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day-how depressing! I wish I was going out with some awesome guy!

But folks, the sign-off is the saddest part, and probably the first record of my weight loss struggles (mind you, I was probably a juniors size 9 or 11 at the time).

Well, 13-year-old me, I’m on it. It’s more than 20 years later, but we’re going to make this happen, you and me together. We’re going to regain our confidence in our body no matter its size or shape.

Oh, and Mike C? Go fuck yourself. I would have dumped you after 3 days anyway.