He had told me that my body was beautiful...
He said that his favorite part about me was my stomach...
As I sat before him, bare skin, one hand covering my midsection.
He then proceeded to joke about the way my lower stomach 'jiggles'...
As if I wasn't already aware.

And I know he was just trying to encourage "body confidence".
But in my mind I heard the words of ex-boyfriends
And concerned family members echoing his comments.
So, even though he never said it, or even came close...
All I heard was the same thing that had been drilled into my esteem for 19 years;
"Well, maybe if she'd lose a little weight..."

At 13, My grandmother smacked my stomach.
While laughing, she said to me,
"You're getting fat."

As a freshman, my grandfather placed a hand on my shoulder,
Looked at my stomach in disapproval, and said,
"Ky, you know, you're getting pretty big."

I could wear my dad's pants by age 12,
And then grew into my mom's by the time I turned 14.

Somewhere around the time I was 15,
My depression swallowed me, and my waistline grew.
I weighed 185lbs by my 17th birthday.

That was the first time a guy I was talking to,
Pulled up to my house, took one look at me,
Called me a "Pig", and left my sight.

Online, A guy commented on my picture,
"Who let the dogs out?"

I gradually sunk even deeper into depression...
In turn - I had slowly gained more weight...
And took fewer body pictures.

Freshly 18, and I thought I had found love.
I thought the size of my waist was finally overlooked...

But then the man I had almost gave my name for,
Began to tell me to put my clothes on after I showered...
Or after we had ***.
I was 5'9", 215lbs, and had just turned 19 years old.
And when that same man broke my heart...
I was devastated, destroyed,
And had been left feeling unattractive.

I went on a search to be wanted...
But it wasn't until I was finally wanted,
that I realized I didn't want it...
I wanted to be hurt.
I wanted someone I wanted to destroy me.
I needed to feel some sort of pain.
It was all I knew.

So I chased after men that i knew would hurt me,
But I always ran away if it didn't hurt just right,
And then blamed them when I ran, for hurting me.

That was when I smoked crystals...
They made me numb to my emotions,
And in turn, made me lax on my ideals.
Still... Those crystals quickly tore away my weight...
I fell from 215lbs to 150lbs in as few as 5 months;
And convinced myself that my thinner waistline
Is ultimately what had defined my happiness.

I told myself, 'I am finally pretty',
And began to take pictures of my body.
I fed off the flattery on social sites to build my ego.
I had expected to finally stay happy...
I was no longer 'fat' and I had thought,
"I'm finally pretty enough to be loved."

All growing up...
Visiting my grandparents had meant:
Being ashamed of the numbers on the scale.
I'd be reminded of my growing waistline...
Or how pretty I would be if it shrunk.

I just wanted them to say I was pretty enough.
I needed them to, so I could justify my new diet...

While blowing smoke and inhaling diamonds;
It was like I had been breathing out the pounds and ounces in each cloud of smoke -
Or putting sharpened rocks into my nostrils...
Until they fell to my waist and shredded away every inch.

When my grandfather lost his memories,
I made the 3 hours drive to care for my grandparents...
I was feeding my Grandfather,
And I was called on by his wife.

You can imagine my surprise,
When my grandmother snapped my attention from her husband -
Despite Alzheimer's always causing her to forget my name -
She looked into my eyes and said to me:

"Kyla, You need to gain some more weight."

You know...
Now I think I understand
What Melanie Martinez meant,
When she asked the question,

"Is it true that pain is beauty?"