I am that girl. The one you disdained for health problems you imagined on me. The problems that didn’t exist as a child emerged only when you judged and reinforced my size was not to your liking. Your observations and from stand against my own medical reports shamed me, not my otherwise vibrant physical and mental health.
I am that girl. The one whose intuition became sharp as a knife over the years, honed by subtle glances, whispers and laughs that people like you tried to hide, preserving your polite society. My institution protected me yet broke my trust in others, and that need to have trust proven rather than openly given to others shames me still today.
I am that girl. The one who sees what you cannot because I live in the life you projected on me of the shame and hurt it brings when I think of these things. Your actions tell how much you hurt from your own imperfections, those shortcomings you lay on others to lighten your load. I share that burden from you and watch while they contribute to the endless cyclic battle with shame that has followed me every day of my life.
I am that girl. I will stand. For her, the one that have tried to send on that same journey of shame. Whether intentionally or not, your shame will not be her burden. You will not hang your hurt, your own shame and your own judgements on her. It is enough. You are undone.
