For me, the holiday season means a lot of trips to my mother’s house. And going to her house means getting all of the “crap” from my childhood bedroom out of her garage and putting it in my own damn house. Geeze, mom…

After my latest dive through the garage of memories, I emerged with several boxes of photographs of myself, my family and my friends from my middle school and high school years.

As I pored over the photographic evidence of the most awkward years of my adolescence, I found one pic of myself that I could not stop staring at. It was a photo of me in a red dress. I immediately recognized the moment. It was junior year. I was 15. I was going to prom with my boyfriend at the time. I looked at myself and remembered everything I felt about that day. I remember feeling bloated, feeling my breasts were too big and saggy, like my dress showed off how weirdly my butt was shaped, like my hair wasn’t smooth and shiny enough and my skin was just…not pretty. Continue reading …