Your UnSlut Project

Submitted by @CherryCookieDough, Author of "The Longest River"

Hi my name is Gabby and you inspired me to write this entry. I hesitated before at the thought of writing this, to post it online; I thought it was something I should be embarrassed of but it’s the past. Every girl goes through stages we try to figure out who we are and it seems like during that process you come in contact with a lot of negativity.

I began to change in middle school. I was going through puberty like other girls at that age, and I lost weight. I was an obese kid and elementary was really hard because of that, but I want to talk about a time where I was labeled a “ho”. (In the urban community we don’t so much say “slut” so they called me a “ho”.)

I was very anti-social in sixth grade, I could fit into a medium, but I still wore my oversized clothes, and I wasn’t into fashion or pretty, girly things. I hung out with guys because they accepted me, and girls didn’t. I dressed like a boy and laughed at their jokes. It was comfortable for a while. Nobody hit on me besides the real perverts that just wanted to be around breasts.

In seventh grade, I made female friends. My clothes got more fitted but I still considered myself an ugly duckling. I had that awkward middle school hair - I went to school with cornrows. But my friends thought I was pretty, they followed me, I was the leader. Each day I made a change, not with appearance really, but personality. I made more friends. Here it comes: eighth grade, the year you’re more mature, you think you understand yourself; you basically blossom, you have boobs now, you’re trying different styles, boys are interested.

I was a duckling who became a duck - a nice looking duck - I’m not going to say a swan, because let’s face it, it was middle school. No more braids, I put on tight clothes and gained superficial confidence. When a guy would ask for my number, I began to think that was what I was worth. The amount of guys that tried to talk to me, if a lot, did that mean I was pretty? My group shrank a little, friends I called my besties decided they didn’t like me as much anymore. To them I had changed, but I just thought I had just gotten prettier and more likable. (Forgive my arrogance - oh my god, I was so conceited, but I really didn’t even like myself. I just knew other people liked how I looked, so I tried to suit them.)

The boys around me at school would slap my legs when I wore a short skirt. Grab me, squeeze me, pull at my top and grope me. I always tried defending myself but never realized why it didn’t work. They thought I was easy, a “ho”, because of my clothes. Oddly I got use to it, and if it was from a guy I knew, I wouldn’t say much. My old friends started talking about me, spreading rumors. It hurt a lot because they would smile in my face.

My mother hated the way I dressed, and my older sister thought I was having sex because of it. I’d say things like, “When I was fat I couldn’t dream of fitting this, so while I’m skinny I want to wear whatever I can fit.” I never slept with anyone, but my family thought I was looking for trouble. I had my first kiss a year later. Cars would honk their horns, men would stop driving to talk to me. All of that was scary but my mindset was so out of place.

I got a boyfriend. He was sixteen, I had just turned 14, and he was the worst. Leroy would drink and smoke - he actually brought alcohol to school in Arizona bottles. We dated for six months. He followed me to high school but broke up with me because we never even kissed. I didn’t trust him; he used to cheat with older girls. I even almost got into a fight over him, and all he wanted was my virginity. I knew that, but I still liked him so much. He made me laugh, he was easy going and he said the sweetest things, but when I look back I had just wanted a boyfriend to replace my friends who had left me out. I couldn’t relate to them so I dated Leroy. He didn’t defend me against the other boys; he’d let them feel me up because he didn’t want to fight and everything was a joke to him. I must have looked like the dumbest thing. Leroy even had problems with the law. He took another girl to prom. He even asked out my friend when we broke up.

I was cyberbullied: the girls who didn’t like me wrote things like “look at that ho” on my MySpace pictures - “she became such a ho, always got the boys touching up on her.” After the break up I decided I couldn’t trust boys. I didn’t want to have sex. My mother raised me up thinking sex was bad, sex is for adults, and if I did it she said she would know. I’m now 18, still living with those words. I understood why she told me things like that and I prefer to stay a virgin until I’m officially ready, maybe after marriage or whenever. I dealt with a lot towards the ending of eighth grade.

I tried keeping my weight low, and I ended up with a eating disorder. I was eating under 700 calories a day. That number kept shrinking. I was always dizzy, passing out in the train, I was so afraid to be fat again that I did drastic things. But a beautiful lady named Eva - I’m using her real name - she was my mentor, my friend, my guidance counselor for three years until she moved. She helped me eat again slowly, she worked with me, I’m not sure how she did it. My arms were like sticks but I saw a whale in the mirror, but she helped me. I owe her my life. I didn’t even know how bad not eating could be.

My mother still doesn’t know about anything. I damaged my metabolism and in 11th grade I gained thirty pounds in one year - I’m chubby again, but I accept my body. I’m happier with meat on my bones. (This time I mean it - I’m not fat, I’m just bigger in some places!) I just graduated and I start college in January. Wish me luck. Let’s not judge each other; girl power is the best thing in life, besides lasagna.