So middle school was a little rough for me. In seventh grade I got beat up at a bus stop. Why? Because I didn't feel like talking to two boys I knew had been violent in the past. So they started beating me up. I wore baggy clothes so no one would see the bruises, so no one would see my body, so I could dress in layers and maybe the bruising wouldn't be that bad. They took nothing from me. They would tell everyone I cried, but I never did in the approximate three months they beat me five days a week. I even tried sitting down, that didn't make it stop, they just beat me over the head with whatever was available-a spare piece of wood someone had left at the curb-they beat me with one day till I had a visible bump on my head. Then another day they brought what appeared to be a gun, and a turkey baster to the stop. I wouldn't eat a chip off the ground so they told they were holding a gun to my head. I felt something at my skull. I'll never know if it was truly a gun, or the baster-I was too afraid to look, and the bus came so they put it away. It was then that I saw a light for a minute. I had to tell someone, it would be winter soon, and I wouldn't be able to just sit down in the snow.
So I told my Mom, the solution was to drive me to school. One day however it was left to my Dad to drive me to school, he devised a plan. It turns out one of the neighbors had seen the beatings taking place, on this day, my father found this neighbor and told them to watch. My dad hid in his van that was parked across the street.Now the two boys walked past the van everyday*note-I didn't say they were smart*. Today though, things were different, that day they threatened to record the beating, and show it at the next school dance. Before they could get started, Dad popped out of the van, and started scolding them, and the neighbor came out of her house, I ran to the neighbor and missed what was said by my dad that day. We tried to press charges, but seeing as I didn't know for sure if it was a real gun,and all the days blurred together, we weren't able to- only a police complaint.
Eighth grade was a different story. The baggy clothes disappeared, and in their place were more form fitting ones. I had always eaten plenty of food, only to be called too skinny, or worse, skinnier. One day I had had enough, I convinced myself that if I stopped eating, that would make me look a healthy weight, and people would shut up about it...Well I had gotten to the point where I had stopped eating breakfast and lunch. I reached a size 0. My stomach appeared to cave in almost. That's when my friends that had gone to treatment for eating disorders stepped in, and told me that's how it started for them. They convinced me that if I wanted to ultimately be fat, then I should stop eating entirely, screw up my metabolism, and never be skinny again once I started eating again. It was then that my best friend at the time told my Mom what was going on one day after school, I confirmed it was true. It was then that I stopped skipping meals, it was then that I realized the friends that had called me too skinny were overweight, and trying to make me feel bad for having looked what was really a healthy size to begin with. I had to re-evaluate who I surrounded myself with.
I myself am now slightly overweight and trying everyday to get back to a healthy weight, the healthy way. However, it's now slightly harder to do. I do love my body the way I am now, and would never take such drastic measures again.
So if you're being beat up, tell someone-ASAP- before it gets to a gun, and if someone tells you you're too skinny, chances are they are overweight themselves and trying to make you feel bad. Don't listen to the haters either way, rise above it and change your surroundings.