U r just a jungle. End sentence. Don’t know why my gibberish corrected to “just a jungle”, because I don’t believe I have ever used that in a sentence, but whatever. I hate my body? There. I hope that reads in your head as confident as my inner voice just tried to outrageously lie, but I wouldn’t be Austin if I wasn’t on my bullshit.
Definitely from bullying, most likely. I don’t know if I’d ever attribute it to my sexual trauma, because despite the fact that I didn’t know the WHY for years, my assaults have always read as a power trip rather than a disrespect to my looks. In fact, for years I was unaware of my looks from a sexual or physical perspective at all. I didn’t hate mirrors, but I didn’t spend my time looking into them, either. My bullies, ironically, turned me into the opposite of what they wanted out of me: instead of becoming someone vain and obsessive, I became someone so intensely hateful of their appearance they wore the same thing every day and stopped talking entirely. Or maybe that is what they wanted, who knows; bullies don’t exactly operate on the concept of bettering those around them.
I let a lot of people convince me to start colouring my eyebrows. I started wearing makeup around 15…
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