The way people look is broken down into two categories: attractive and not. I happen to fall into the first one. I’m not the thinnest person on the face of the earth. I don’t have the clearest skin. I’m just a young, teenage girl. I live in a town of around ten-thousand people in Arkansas. I’m average in my own eyes. I’m normal to the human population.
What is it that makes me fall into the “attractive” category? Let me tell you a little bit more about myself. I said earlier I live in a small, rural town where everyone knows who everybody else is. I am a member of one of the more “important” families. That means I am to always look put together, always have perfect manners, always do everything right. I also said I am not the thinnest. I say that because I am 5.5 feet tall and weigh 150 pounds. I know that isn’t unsual, but the importance of weight is where it is. I wear a 36DD bra, size 34 (European) jeans, and a size 8 dress. Still not unusual.
Everywhere I go, everyone looks at me, no, gaulks at me. For this reason, I dress in rather baggy clothing. My mother, who is very overweight, and older sister, who is 5’9 and 110 pounds, tell me I need to wear tighter clothing. I don’t want to wear tighter clothes because if everyone looks at me, I don’t want to flaunt anything because I feel uncomfortable when I do.
Why I feel uncomfortable is because of one occasion. My parents are divorced. My three sisters, two older, one younger, live with my mother. I do aswell. The divorce said my sisters and I were under my mother’s full custody, but our dad drives us home from school and takes us to lunch on weekends. It may seem like we don’t spend enough time with him, but it is enough for me. I know that sounds cruel, but I am no longer hiding what I want to say.
On the specific occasion I am referring to, we had arrived at the house after school. We all line up to give our dad a hug before he heads off to work. I happen to be the last one. My dad waited until my sisters went inside to hug me. I began to pull back, but he didn’t let me. He mumbled something I barely heard: “I just want to screw you so bad.” That made me freak out. I eventually broke away from him and walked inside casually. This happend in 2012, and I haven’t hugged him since.
My situation isn’t as bad as other people’s, and I know that. All I hope for this post is people will read this and realise they are supporting or not doing anything about this. I know I only have a handful of followers, but I trust they will take this post and carry the idea I am trying to express. Women are so scared something will happen to them if they wear a tank top or a tighter dress. It affects women psychologically and emotionally. Guys, be gentlemen. If you must check someone out, do it discreetly, please.