For as long as I could remember I struggled with weight. When I look back, I can't tell when it happened, but I know it did. I went from an adorably thin girl to a lumpy sack of potatoes. I used to be happy and cute, until life happened.

I remember on my 5th birthday, I wore a bubble-gum pink, two-piece bathing suit with cute ruffles on both the top and bottom. My tanned skin made me look like a tiny shot of espresso. I always had a bunch of glittery, temporary tattoos on my stomach. I didn’t have a care in the world. I was beautiful, although I didn’t really know it just yet. I was the shy, quiet one and had enough hair on my head for about three girls combined. It was usually in two long pigtail braids, kept together by two tight barrettes with colorful plastic balls on each end, and fluffy bangs that sat at the top of my eyes. Hard times were in store for me.

By the third grade, my mother had decided to move me over to a public school, and that’s when it all began: the stares, the whispers, and the uncomfortable moments when I wanted to cry. The other girls were tiny compared to my overstuffed body. I wasn't pretty enough to hang out with the "cool" kids so I sort of kept to myself. I really wish I could've been with the popular girls, but it just wasn't an option with my thick eyebrows and puffy stomach. Life had just started to be cruel to me.I remember my first crush and how my hopes had reached to the top of the earth on a never-ending ladder that he might just like me too. From the first day of third grade I was completely in love with this boy in my class who made waking up early that much more enjoyable.

In the 5th grade, I had volunteered to walk a third grader with learning disabilities to class every morning. My heart froze like it was caught in the Arctic Ocean for too long when I saw him volunteer with me. His smile was addictive and I honestly thought he had liked me. I spent that year planning our lives together, all within the 5 minutes spent every day taking the little boy to class. Those magical walks that we spent shoulder-to-shoulder down that enchanted hallway which reeked of wood and paint thinner were all I needed to fuel my imagination. The hamster wheel in my head was spinning off its hinges. That hamster must have been lean and muscular at the rate it was running. I thought about how perfect and sweet he was to have volunteered to walk with me.

I thought that my size didn’t matter to him.

Well, along with the imaginary life I had created in my head, the monitoring had also come to an end and everything went back to normal. Those moments that I spent alone with him were only memories. His playfulness had disappeared and my glow had melted from my cheeks. For that brief time, I pretended that he just might like me, or even think of me like the boys often thought about the other girls. I was sure that after spending so much time with me, he would learn that I was just like the other girls, maybe even better. And every time I think of that school, I always remember him. He only saw me as his friend.

I wasn’t like the other girls.

Junior High School was the worst time of my life. The girls were like a pack of wolves attempting to pounce on their prey. My sheltered life had created a plain girl who didn’t stand a chance against bullying. What did I do wrong? The quiet girl with fluffy, large hair didn’t meet the mainstream wardrobe credentials which consisted of fancy name brands like Timberland or Nike Air Jordan. My orange and gray Sketchers weren’t all that appealing to that bunch of adolescent show-offs. My twisted, rough, coil hair was constantly peeking from behind my brave hair-tie that had been stretched to its absolute limit. My eyebrows were two Lego blocks that I wanted to break apart into tinier pieces. A hanger had once taken up residence in my hood for the entire day of school until I felt the thick plastic against my neck in 8th period--I was always in a rush because I was always late. Friends had turned on me at one point or another.Trust had started to play hide-and-seek with me.

My walk home was always a game of Russian roulette, with the kids who bullied me a few days before pretending to be my friend the following day.

I felt worthless, like an insignificant particle; a tiny spec that floats in the air; that little ant that we walk past every day, but never really see. It is no wonder that I have always been so clingy in relationships, like those gel globs that you attach to windows during the holidays. Once someone showed interest in me, I thought it was too good to be true and accepted them.

Junior High was where all of my insecurities shielded me and created a layer that kept me from being that happy girl I was supposed to be. In the summer of 8th grade, about three months before I would start over in High School, and exactly one week before my 13th birthday, my grandfather had passed away.He was the only person so close to me that I had ever lost. I didn’t take it well at all and started to really seclude myself. I went into a depression, missing him more and more and trying to be content around my grandmother. I spent the night with her many times, taking turns with my family over that summer. The chaos of losing someone so important in my life had created a miserable girl with regrets too heavy to hold on her own. I had to put on a fake grin and grow tougher skin every day to be brave and strong for my mother and my grandmother.

This tough skin that I grew was an exact replica of a piece of plastic, hard on the outside, but any forceful poking could break it down.

High School was my fresh start, my squeaky-clean window. I could’ve gone to the school everyone else from my Junior High had gone to, but instead, I decided to go to a brand new school with brand new friends. I only knew roughly three people who also went there and finding them was like finding the square-root of Pi, so I didn’t mind. I wanted to reintroduce myself as a semi-confident girl who wouldn’t get taken advantage of anymore. That plan self-destructed the first day of school when I wore a red Mickey Mouse zip-up jacket.Wow, I was so pathetic. That was my chance and I had single-handedly messed it up not even five minutes into my only attempt at happiness. I had to brave out the following four years until I would have another chance.

It was as though my low self-esteem was battling with my weight, looking to be the biggest champion in my world of disappointments.

On top of feeling like the piece of gum that is wedged to the bottom of a lunch table, I also went through another traumatic experience. In my third year of High School, my parents split up. With all that was happening around me: my father moving out, my mother packing us up, and my grandmother still not doing so well on her own, we moved clear across the island. I had to say goodbye to my childhood, to the rooms of my home that I shared my secrets in, to my best friend who was my next door neighbor from the day we were both born, to the secret alley up the block where I had my first kiss. I had to close my eyes and walk away from it all. I was so angry. My life was falling into pieces of crushed glass against the floor and I was losing control. I know now that it wasn’t my fault, but at that moment it felt like the world had been too tired from spinning all day and night, so it had decided to take a break on top of me.My grades had taken a tumble. I didn’t like to disappoint my mother, but I didn’t want to be a part of anything anymore. I missed my grandfather, my house, my life, my friends, and my family. I was a frequent-flyer to my guidance counselor almost every day. I had just about given up on smiling.

Today, as a college graduate and in my first year of Grad school, I have a new outlook. Even after dealing with bullying and battling with with anxiety, I came out okay. This life I was dealt wasn't to hurt me anymore than it was to help me grow into who I am right now. I might not be super impressive but I have the support of my family and friends who actually care. So what if I was bullied for being "ugly" as a preteen, I am an amazing person to be around and quite attractive if I say-so myself. I worked harder than I would've if I wasn't picked-on for being different than the rest of the group. Boys may not have liked me back then, but I have a man who completely loves every inch of me, and that's better than any feeling I have ever imagined.

My beauty wasn’t so easily visible back then. It was buried behind red, burning eyes that would cry every night. I understand the importance of self worth and although my childhood was a little rough, I don’t regret anything I went through.

Regrets are just writing prompts.