Sixth grade was a hellish time for me growing up. I was overweight as I had been my entire life however, that year was full of insults.

“Can’t wait to see you in gym class trying to run the mile, fatty.”
“No one’s ever going to like you because your fat.”
“Can you even fit in that chair?”
“Are you trying to watch your weight?”
“Move it fatty.”

Every day it was a new line with the same theme. My clothing went from light vibrant colors to blackened sweatshirts and jeans practically year round to hide myself as much as humanly possible. I dreaded going to school. Had gut wrenching anxiety every morning when my alarm went off. This was the new norm.

I was an active kid then. Playing rec league basketball, softball, and cheerleading (debate it all you want we had super long practices with conditioning and running) but none of that mattered to my peers. They were looking for the laugh from the rest of the class and that  feeling of superiority or whatever it was they gained out of ridicule.

Flash forward to my sophomore year of high school where the ring leader of the clique I unfortunately associated myself with started a rumor that I was a lesbian with a girl I was friends with since the second grade. It devastated me and left me with the worst grades I’ve ever had in school. I’d skip lunch because I used to eat with them. I tiptoed to class hoping not to spot one of them on my way. I was even uninvited to a Christmas party that was to be hosted at my house that year. I was in the plot of Mean Girls except there was no plastic sabotage, unfortunately.  This made growing up a fat lesbian all the more difficult for me, especially because I wasn’t out and didn’t come out until I was 24.

These times were the start of the darkness
The fuel of resentment for who I was
The growing hatred for what I looked like
The piercing anger towards my body
The self doubt and unworthiness that became my background music

But all of this is going to change…

©Megan Matos, December 2016
Header image downloaded from


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