Looking back, I wish I could retrace some of those early days and school mornings. I can't think of where it all started or exactly when it began to bother me. Did someone say something to me in school? Did my own family make remarkable comments? Would I have been aware of them otherwise? All I remember is staring at my 4' by 2' mirror fixed in my perfectly painted bedroom walls and hating them. I don't know if I cried, if I threw a tantrum or just acted sad, but whatever it was it convinced my parents to let me do it.
One of the only memories I have is blaming my mom, my sweet, caring, loving mom. "You made me like this, it's your fault" I said. She wanted what was best for me, so she didn't contradict me. She called the doctor. I must have been 7 when it started because I remember being upset that I had to wait another FULL YEAR to get my surgery. What a cruel world. Could I bear another 12 months of wearing headbands over my monstrous ears? I wasn't sure.
I remember laying down in the surgery room, my mom holding my hand. There were major lights above me and the doctor gave me something with a funny smell and then I woke up. I woke up sicker than ever. I had to miss school. I had a big helmet around my head in the peak of summer.
Don't get me wrong. I don't regret getting plastic surgery. I don't blame my parents for letting me, if anything I can only thank them after all, they have been incredibly supportive from then to now. But how did it start? What happens for a child to hate a part of their body (who mind you wasn't even that bizarre) so much that the only way out seems so extreme? What message are kids getting?
I'm all for doing what makes you happy, if you want bigger breasts, and if that's going to make truly make you happy, do it. I think it's okay to want to change your body. But more importantly is knowing why. Did I hate my ears because others hate it? That doesn't seem like a great reason to want to change it so drastically. I only wish I could pinpoint to the moment I flipped the switch and decided that I wasn't good enough, because I'd go back and say 'honey, love yourself, and go play.'
It's helpful to know we're not the only one who faces problems with body shaming. Here's a chance to share.