Sometimes, words can hurt almost as much as punches or slaps.

At the beginning of freshman year, I started going out with a great guy. He was cute, smart, and (most importantly) had a fantastic sense of humor. The only problem was, the object of most of his jokes seemed to be me.

“Come on, Fatty,” he would coax along as we were climbing the stairs, or “Way to finish that whole pastry. You’re a whale.”

He said all of these things in a clearly joking tone, so I and those around us would realize he wasn’t being serious. But he also said them nearly every day, and we went out for almost a full year.

Here’s the thing. I am not now, nor have I ever been, overweight. I’m not rail-thin, either, but nobody except maybe Heidi Klum’s manager could call me anything bigger than average. I’ve been almost immune to peer pressure all my life, and I never questioned the way my body looked until my boyfriend started saying things about how fat I was. Read More »