I'm Not Hiding Anymore

It all started on a hot spring day in 2001, my mom had just picked me up from school and we were walking to the car. Suddenly my mom turned to me and said, “Mere I think it’s time for you to start wearing a bra”. I looked down at my bright yellow shirt with butterflies, scrunched up my face and screamed NO at her over and over. I threw a fit and whined in the car…I mean come on y’all I was seven! The whole idea of wearing a bra seemed completely unnecessary to me, but as time went on (just a few weeks) Mother Nature won the argument and I had to wear a bra.

It was pretty easy to get used to my training bra and after a while I forgot I even had it on…UNTIL someone in my second grade class found out. I remember one day a classmate grabbed my shirt and put ice down my bra and soon multiple kids were putting ice down my bra. It was like a game…to them. I would run away yelling “STOP IT” and they would run after me. By the end of the day all the ice in my bra melted and I had a huge mark in the center of my back. I tried to pretend like it didn’t bother me, but inside I was so embarrassed.

There was a good chunk of elementary school where whoever was standing behind me in line would pop my bra. The elastic on Limited Too training bras were no joke, they were strong. So every time someone (a girl or a boy) grabbed my bra and let go there was a loud snap and it hurt! Again, they thought it was funny, but I would get so angry in line and start to cry. It got so bad that I had to go to the school counselor with whoever popped my bra that week.

This was my identifier, I was the girl who was growing breasts and wearing a bra and it felt like everyone knew and that everyone was talking about it.

This is when my hatred for my breasts started.

This is where my low self-esteem started.

This is where my insecurities started.

I was teased at school for having breasts so obviously I didn’t want them!

Once middle school hit it seemed like everything got worse. I was a 4 foot 11 tomboy with a 36C Cup who played sports.

It was my own personal Hell.

On top of that I had severe acne on my face, chest and back, which was and IS a whole other problem in itself.

In middle school I started going to Christian summer camps (which I loved) I met so many great friends, we had bonfires, made friendship bracelets and I learned a lot about Jesus. One day at camp a Christian counselor sat my cabin of girls down for a talk. She told us that we needed to dress modestly and wear one pieces because...

 “You don’t want to be the reason why a boy stumbles in his walk with Jesus”.

My mind was shattered. What? I can hurt someone’s relationship with Jesus Christ? By what I’m wearing? I was 13 and didn’t want to be the cause for someone to struggle in their faith. So internally I started thinking that my body was something I should hide and be ashamed of.

In the Church’s mission to protect a boy's faith they hindered mine. 

When I was 14 years old I was a 36D

I slouched when I walked and my posture was terrible.

I wore clothes that were two sizes too big.

My self-confidence was non-existent.

So I went to a plastic surgeon to consider a breast reduction surgery. Sadly he said I was too young and needed to wait until I was 18 years old.

Flash-forward to high school, I was 18 years old and knee deep in an eating disorder. I was ashamed of my body and I didn’t want anyone (especially boys) to look at me, because I knew what they were thinking.

And I knew what the church was telling me they were thinking. I felt defined by my physical appearance and I just wanted to disappear.

I thought, the less there is of me, the less there is to stare at.

I remember looking in the mirror and seeing things that were not there. It’s almost like I was looking through a magnifying glass when it came to my insecurities with my body.

The size of my breasts consumed my every thought, there was never a time that I wasn’t thinking about it.

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that the size of my breasts contributed to the development of my eating disorder. There were many other factors that attributed to my food deprivation, but it all started with my severe insecurity with my breast size.

The oversized clothes continued into college. I would go to bed thinking, okay what can I wear so that boys don’t look at me and I can hide my chest size? My new friends (both guys & girls) casually commented on my clothing choices sometimes…

“Why don’t you wear clothes that fit you?”

I would just raise both my hands up and say I don’t know. I couldn’t tell them that it was really because I was ashamed and I didn’t want my chest size to be the reason why guys lusted in their hearts and ultimately abandoned Christianity.  

Writing this down now it sounds ridiculous, but I can 100% say this is what I believed.

Everybody’s developmental years are so vital and a lot of things that happen when we’re younger affect us as adolescents and adults. I made this connection literally one week ago, and it all makes sense now,

I saw my breast size as a curse, because I was picked on for having them by my peers and condemned by the Church for not hiding them. 

Despite my recent revelation, I still struggle with positive body image.

I was very scared to write about this very personal struggle, but the Lord and some friends encouraged me to write about it. It was very therapeutic to put my story on paper and I encourage anyone who struggles with insecurities or body image to befriend that pain, press into it. Go to a counselor and confide in someone who loves you.

It takes time to come into your skin and accept yourself as you are. 

A healthy body is a blessing and we are ALL created with intricate detail by a Righteous hand. 

I’m happy to say that I have started this journey of acceptance and though it is difficult and quite terrifying it is so oh so freeing.