Ever since elementary school, I've been fat.

People have always told me I was fat.
"Michelle's so fat!"
"I bet she makes earthquakes.”
“No boy would ever like you.”
I pretended to not hear the hushed whispers of my classmates. I pretended to not care at all. I even would say I that liked being fat.
I thought that if I told myself that enough, then I would start believing it. I didn't. It became a daily occurrence for me to just smile at the bullies and act like I didn’t care, only to run into the girl’s bathroom to cry.
When I went home, I stared into my mirror and just stared at myself for hours and hours. Then I finally understood why people thought I was ugly. It was because I was fat.
Somehow, in these times, the word 'fat' has become a synonym for 'ugly'. And that's exactly what I believed.
I remember I cried myself to sleep that night.
In middle school, I didn’t even bother trying to defend myself from the insults, because I thought they were all true.
Finally, it came the day when my Mom was going to get remarried. Of course, I had to wear a nice dress for the occasion, there was no way I could just show up in my usual t-shirt and yoga pants.
I put on my dress, let down my hair, and put on some jewelry.
When I finished getting ready, I came out, and went straight to my room to look at myself in the mirror.
I thought that as soon as I looked at myself, I would be able to confirm that I was indeed ugly, disgusting, and fat.
I was met with a girl in a long purple dress, a blue necklace, a lacy white cardigan, her hair being kept out of her face by a headband adorned with crystals. Her complexion, a tanned olive, and her eyes a soft brown. I could hardly believe it - That girl was me.
And as I stood there and stared at myself, I felt a warm feeling bubble up inside of me.
So this is what it’s like to feel beautiful.
I realized I was still fat.
I was fat and beautiful.
The girl in the mirror gave a big smile.
It was then I realized -
“Just because I’m not skinny doesn’t mean I’m not pretty.”