The Wedding

The wedding day was slowly approaching and she was freaking out. It wasn’t even her wedding day. It was the closet person to her, her sisters wedding. Everything was going smoothly until the day came to decide on the maid of honor and bridesmaid dresses. She knew what was in store. Her sister would want her to wear something form fitting, revealing and something not her style. She dreaded going shopping but she knew she had to go. The first store was a total bust. The bridesmaid had found a dress that was perfect for her body because she was a size 2! She could wear any dress in the entire store! Not her though, she was size 20. She had curvy hips and an unforgiving backside.

On to store two they go. Looking around the store there were a ton of beautiful dresses. Some in sizes up to 28. She was finally starting to feel a little more at ease. She liked the selection and the bigger sizes. Out of no where her sister pulls out this ungodly atrocious maroon dress. It was form fitting and had capped sleeves. Her sister was being pushy and convinced her to at least have her try it on. She went to the dressing room and crawled into the dress. Every possible place that could bulge, did. She tried lifting her arms and they would stop midway from being so tight. Then she had her entire arm completely exposed. Her entire burned arm was exposed. How could she tell her sister that she was uncomfortable? How could she let her sister know that the dress was not going to work?

It would have been ok and she would have made it work but then there was the best man. The best man who was constantly flirting with her and would have to walk her down the aisle. He would have to look at her arm. He would have to see the scars. She was mortified. She kept quiet about the dress and left without buying it. Her sister was very persistent and made her go to the wedding shop again. They went and she tried on the dress again and was sick to her stomach. She was not walking down the aisle in this dress. Well, her mom stepped in and made her wear the dress and said that “It wouldn’t be that bad.” She bought the dress, got home and shoved it in the closet. She wanted nothing to do with that horrid dress and wanted to forget all about it.

The wedding day had arrived. The bridesmaid and the sister had went to go get their makeup and nails done and did not invite her. She got dressed at her parents house by herself and did her own hair and makeup. She arrived at the church and tired to sit in the dressing room. The dress was super uncomfortable so she had to stand. The sister’s vail was crooked and she tried to fix it but her arms would not go up higher than midway. The sister started to get upset and yell at her. She explained how the dress was and that it was super uncomfortable. All she heard was “Deal with it” and “It’s your sisters day, don’t ruin it” from her mom.

The time came for her to walk down the aisle. She started to to tear up and wanted to run out of there but she didn’t want to make a scene. She grabbed her flowers and tried to cover her arm as much as possible. The best man had no idea what was going on but did look at her arm and made a weird grossed out look. She was humiliated. She came up with up a brilliant idea that she could just hide her arm by switching sides with the best man. It would solve everything!! She could hide her scars from everybody.

Well, that didn’t work out. As soon as they started to line up she tried to go to the other side and her mom saw what she was trying to do and started yelling at her! She argued that it was fine and not big deal but her mom was not having it. Her mom grabbed her by the arm and told her to stand on the other side. She wanted to burst into tears. Did nobody understand what was going on? Could nobody see how much she wanted to hide herself?

The music started and the best man pulled her down the aisle. She was so embarrassed. Friends and family were just peering at her arm like she was an alien. Eyes bulging out of their heads with snide looks. She kept walking and was finally at the alter. She finally could feel some relief. She was finally able to hide her arm. She stood at the alter with her face as red as the dress. Finally the vows were said and the kiss was made!! It was done. It was over with!

*This was one of the most humiliating times in my life that I want to forget even existed but I seem to remember a lot. It would be the setup for the next five years of my life that would be total hell. This was the day that had started everything.

No choice

There is so much pressure to be beautiful. To be beautiful means to have beautiful skin. To look flawless. To look healthy. What if you were covered in scars? What if you had chicken skin on your arm? What if you always felt the need to cover up and camouflage your body? When you look better covered up than exposed…shouldn’t it be the other way around? What if you were so ashamed of how your body looked you wore sweaters in the summer time? Picture a hot sunny day, the sun rays are beating down on you and you had to keep yourself covered. You looked around and saw so many girls in tank tops or halter tops. It saddened me. It made me depressed. I wanted to go sleeveless, I wanted to show off my skin, I wanted to be cool and not sweating like a stuffed pig. But no. The stares would be unbearable. The looks of disgust, the frowns were something I could not handle. I stayed covered up. Covered in long sleeves. Long hot sleeves. Hiding myself from snarls, stares and disgust. I keep my arm protected. I took pictures on my right side never on my left. I hid my arm from everybody and everything. Not by choice. Because I had to!

Beauty Marks

IMG_20180712_165623_241 “Mama, why do I have spots on my body?” That is a question I had always asked my mom. Her response never changed, “They are your beauty marks.” Even though she would tell me this, I never felt beautiful. I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to fit in. I wanted normal skin. Beautiful flawless skin. Skin without scars, without spots. Why did this happen to me? Why did I get so unlucky? These were questions I had asked myself on a daily basis. I would wake up in the morning, look into the mirror and then look away. Finally after graduating highschool, I decided that I would not let my spots get the best of me. I decided to do some research. I made an appointment with a dermatologist and found out I had Vitiligo. That’s my disease. That’s why I am so different. I now had two options. I could either let this disease get the best of me or I could learn to embrace it. It wasn’t until I had went to a gas station and saw the most beautiful woman covered in spots. Covered in spots and showing them off. Not ashamed. Not embarrassed. I thought to myself, hey she is like me, she is spotted. I felt the need to talk to her. I had to approach her. I needed to hear her story. I had no idea how I was going to approach her but I did. I slowly asked, “Do you have Vitiligo?” I think I startled her. She dropped her coffee all on the ground. I felt so embarrassed. Why did I approach her? Why did I ask her if I already knew the answer? “Oh, you mean my beauty marks?” She replied. My heart skipped a beat and my mouth dropped wide open. I started to tear up and studdered, “bbbeeaauuttyy mmaarrkkss?” “Yes, these are my beauty marks. Only people who are unique and special are blessed with these beauty marks like ours.” I wanted to wrap my arms around this lady and give her the biggest hug possible. I stood there and stared at her. I had so many questions to ask her. She cleaned up her coffee and gave me a huge smile. She seemed like she was in a hurry. I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to talk to her. She started to walk away. I followed her. She got to the counter to pay for her coffee. She probably thought I was a weirdo for following her but I needed to talk to her. She turned as she was leaving and said “Remember, don’t ever think that you are not beautiful and no matter what anybody says, just know that there’s not that many people out there who can be like us.” It made me feel so special after hearing those kind words. I watched her walk away. I was left speechless and shocked. This woman had spots, more spots than I had but she embraced them. She showed them off. I left that gas station that day feeling better than I have in my whole entire life. That lady changed my life forever.

Camouflage

I wanted to write about my last experience at a clothing store for bigger sized women. I will not say the name of the store. I wanted to shop there because I find that Wal-Mart and Target have nice clothes but their clothes are not fashionable. Well to me at least they aren’t. So I went into the store with every intention to find a cute outfit. I had a family party coming up and I wanted a new fresh out fit. I started looking at the pants. I had a sales associate walk up to me and started to push pants on me. I am a big girl. I know what looks good on me and what doesn’t. She proceeded to show me pants all around the store. Each one she brought up I found something wrong with it. I have to say, even though I am a big girl I know my body. On top of the fact that I am a big girl I have had to hide my body my entire life. Next we started looking at shirts…oh the shirts! Having to cover my fat arms and my scars…but look at all these tank tops!! Look at all these sleeveless shirts..soooo beautiful!! I look at them at get more and more sad. Sad at the fact of how fashion is and what is considered to be something that looks good. Am I feeling sorry for myself? Maybe. Maybe I am stuck in a world where I do not belong. A world full of beautiful skinned people with perfect bodies. When you have scars or you are overweight you want to do your best to hide. I want to look fashionable and not show off my skin. How is that possible in a world full of Victoria Secret and Kardashians? Isn’t it fashionable to show off your skin? Aren’t you considered beautiful if you show off your skin? Camouflage! Cover it up and look fabulous. You wear spanx and work it girl!! You push that fat in and cover up. I swear I now the ability to cover up, still look sexy and most importantly feel comfortable in my own skin. I have always wanted to start a clothing line for bigger women with scars. Bigger women with insecurities. Bigger women who could cover up and look fabulous. Maybe change fashion to cover up and make exposing yourself taboo again. Who am I kidding!! Needless to say, I walked out of the store empty handed and just put together something in my closet. I felt great about my body and had a great time.

Scarred

Scared, terrified, hands sweaty, fingers trembling, feeling like she is in someone elses skin, body and mind, why can’t people see her fears? Hear her thoughts? wanting someone to listen, kiss her, be there for her when she needs love, rough and wild love, pure not nasty, looking at me crazy, look past her body, replace my scars, take away all these horrific scars, so silent, completely alone, kiss her softly, sexually, tickle her in a naughty way, no one notices her, what are you doing? be with me, hold me, wanting too much, hating life, gloomy thoughts, only one suffering, no one cares, playing with my mind, destroying my life, confused, dazed, lost. Hear me, take me, don’t leave me alone, care for just me, letting myself loose, getting stares, these awful unforgiving stares, STOP STARING AT ME!! hating to be looked at, wanting pleasure, bring pleasure, words told, unthoughtful words, hearing nothing, eyes are deceiving, bring pleasure, emptiness, bare surroundings, silence, blackness, darkness, come to me, i am angry, killing my heart, feeling helpless, no memories, blankness, is there more than this? getting lost, suffering mind, tremendous fear, always losing, no reflection, invisible to the world, outside looking in, alone, fearing people, try to be free, no care, no love

Memories

20141027_181252 Do you ever have flashbacks of your younger years? I get them more now than ever. I have random memories pop up and I feel lost in that moment. Some memories are amazing others not so much. My latest memory was when I was in 3rd grade. They had these huge metal rings that you would swing on. You had to stand in line to get your turn. It was my turn and I look over to my left and I see my mom on the playground. My mom worked as an assist in a classroom and helped out in classrooms. My hands were very sweaty so I wiped them off on my jeans and reached for the first ring. Because of my burn I was not able to stretch out my arm as my other arm. My mom started walking in closer. I just smiled at her as if I was reassuring her that I was ok. I then proceeded to start a swinging motion for the second ring. My hand had slipped and I feel into the bark. I heard a couple of snickers but I brushed myself off and stood up. Before I knew it my mom was grabbing me under my underarns and tried to put me on the rings. I got so upset. I started kicking my legs and telling her no. Some of the kids got upset and started telling me I had to wait in line again. I felt so embarrassed. Why would my mom do this to me? Did she feel sorry for me?

All my life I was treated differently than my sister. I was given more and shown more love. They say favoritism shouldn’t exsist in a family. That’s all I felt growing up. I was given special treatment because I was burned. I felt bad for my sister. Till this day my mom and sisters relationship is very toxic. I am always put in the middle of their arguements. I hear both sides and I have to stay neutral. My sister doesn’t understand my mom and my mom doesn’t understand my sister. Its a constant struggle. I love both of them dearly.