Ignorance Is Bliss
I wish you'd never told me that I was fat, that I couldn't do things other people could, and that in order to be happy I'd have to lose weight.
The first time I remember you telling me people would like me more if I was skinny was when I was 8. 
I was 8. I should have been worrying about who to play with at recess, not about whether or not I was a disappointment to everyone.
I didn't know anything was wrong with me until you pointed it out.
For so long I thought I was grotesque and that no one would love me - including you. 
So I started exercising all the time. I stopped eating. And even when I got down to a low weight it still wasn't low enough for you, so I gave up and went the complete other direction. I stopped caring about myself. I couldn't handle the hunger pangs, the migraines, and the loneliness. It didn't change anything. You still told me I needed to lose more weight.
You think you're being nice when you say "once you lose your weight you'll be the most beautiful girl on campus. guys won't be able to walk past you without staring." but instead all I hear is "no one will pay attention to you when you're like this. no one will look at you twice." which may be the wrong way to take it, but this is what you've taught me.
Maybe you were trying to help me, but in the end you only hurt me. Badly. It's something I'll struggle with for the rest of my life. 
I blame myself, and I blame you. And that hurts me. I wish I had no resentment, I think it puts a great strain on our relationship. All I want to do is move on, but I can't.
You emotionally tattooed "fat" on my forehead so every time I look in the mirror it's all I can see.
Mom, I wish you'd kept your mouth shut when I was 8.
