I was body-shamed as a kid. Years later, I’m still recovering from the trauma.

Courtesy of Colleen Dilthey Thomas I had bigger breasts than any of my classmates, and I felt their stares all the time. I was 12 when a boy made a comment that made me self-conscious for the rest of my life. I’m working on not being self-deprecating now that I’m a parent who wants to set an example.

I’ll never forget it. If I think about that day now, I can see myself standing at home plate dreading the fact that it was my turn to kick. I was self-conscious.

It wasn’t just my lack of athletic ability that had me nervous, it was my changing figure. My breasts were bigger than any classmate’s, and people had begun to notice. Until that day they’d been silent, but I watched their stares.

Then it happened. “Don’t make her run or she’ll get two black eyes. “I died inside that day.

That single sentence changed my body image for the rest of my life. What he thought was a funny way to impress his classmates made me spiral into a lifetime of self-loathing, eating disorders, and humiliation. I’ve lived with so much shame about something I can’t control.

This is what the DNA had figured out for me: hazel eyes, dark hair, and a 36C in sixth grade. What was I supposed to do? I was 12. And he ruined my life.

I have body-image issuesOnce I entered high school, girls my age dated. Not me. Guys never approached me.

I wasn’t shy or introverted. I was involved in activities and spent plenty of time with guys. No one ever expressed interest in me.

That made me feel even worse. They still snickered as I passed, focusing on that which I hated most. It was so damaging.

As I got older, I dated men who cared more about my mind and my sense of humor than the size of my breasts. I started to become comfortable in my body. But even into my 20s I’d sit at a bar or restaurant with my coat across my lap so that no one could see my “fat” stomach.

I look back at pictures today and think, “What I wouldn’t give to be ‘fat’ like that again. “I am now married with four children. I am in my 40s, but my body image remains horrible.

My breasts are still big, and my belly is rounder. Plus there are stretch marks and C-section scars. Do I know in my mind that this is a normal part of motherhood? Yes.

Would I ever wear a bikini and show off my tiger stripes? Not a chance. And while it’s easy to be self-deprecating when I look in the mirror, I have to make the conscious decision not to do that. I’m a mom nowI have a daughter now.

My sweet girl is 6. I am responsible for caring for her and nurturing her and helping her see the beauty that is inside of her. She is just a baby.

I have no idea what her body will look like 10 years from now. Part of me hopes that it is nothing like mine. I also have three sons who I am determined to raise right.

They will understand that a woman’s value isn’t related to her body. I hope they will think about their sister and how they would feel if someone was embarrassing her. I pray that they will understand empathy.

After all, if you have to make someone the butt of your joke, they aren’t the loser — you are. It has taken me 31 years, but I am finally realizing that those haunting words were in fact just words; they were never meant to define how I see myself. I was worthy then, and I am worthy now.

Looks fade, boobs droop, and hair goes gray. It’s the heart that matters. That is the greatest lesson.

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