Dear Diary,
This isn't going to be the most happiest entry...
I don't like my body.
I don't consider myself perfect. In gym class, I always wear sweaters and sweat pants, even if it is 30 degrees Celsius outside. I do that because I hate how I look in shorts. I find my legs are too fat. I wear sweaters because (a) I don't like my arms and (b) I find my arms are too hairy. I hate dresses because I hate wearing them and I don't think I look good in them. My stomach is another story. I find it's too big. Too round.
People always ask why I wear my sweater or sweats in my gym class or in summer. Over half the answers that answer those questions is that I hate my body.
When some guys talk to me, usually I smile then turn "beat red" (words from a girl in my class, and two other guys also said this in my class). They tell me it's "cute". But I don't think it is. My face is a totally different story too. Acne. One word. Everyone in my grade has flawless skin.. I've been wishing for that. So bad.
I never will get to the part of my life where I think about suicide or start cutting. I have no need for that. When people compliment me, at the time, I will take it. Then later, it seems as if I threw that compliment away and I'm thinking the opposite.
I am writing all of this because I just want to say something. I've been thinking about this for quite some time (a month—at least). I'm wanting someone to tell me that I am beautiful in every way.
Sarah
YOU ARE READING
Vulnerable
Não FicçãoThis is the purest of evidence of a regular girl experiencing what life constantly throws at her. Here, you will read my personal diary entries from when I was a young nine year old girl to current day. I've been through a lot. The good, the bad, th...
