I just stood there, staring in the foggy mirror at my rounded figure wrapped in a towel. My tears kept blurring my vision, despite my countless attempts to blink them away. I never thought I would despise the reflection staring back at me. All of their words just kept repeating in my head: “You’re body is disgusting”

“Oh my god, stop running Cake Batter! I’m going to throw up.”

“You are a waste of space.”

I looked away, dropping my head and closing my eyes. The knot in my chest just seemed to get tighter. I hated every square inch of my body, and I just wished it would disappear. I looked back up at the mirror and stood up straight. I saw my thighs, and cringed at the way they reminded me of an enormous mountain, with overlapping ranges and deep slopes of cellulite. I stared at my stomach and the way it resembled the ocean, with treacherous waves and pools of stretch marks. At one hundred and eighty-five pounds, I could not believe how disgusting I was. 

It is at times like these that I recall conversations with my mom explaining the power of self-assurance. She would always say, “If you can love yourself unconditionally, nothing anyone else says can harm you. Nothing will prevent you from being who you’re meant to be.” 

I desperately gazed deep into the reflection staring back at me, and slowly lifted my hand, pointing one finger at the glass. I whispered, “Cady Baker, you are beautiful. You are loved and beyond worthy of great things. Stop doubting yourself.”

I turned off the bathroom light while wiping away tears, and slowly walked back to my room. Despite the everlasting thoughts going through my mind, I crawled into my bed and attempted to sleep it off.

The next morning, I woke up with bloodshot eyes from crying myself to sleep and slowly got out of bed. I trudged into the bathroom and followed my usual routine: brushing my teeth, curling my hair, applying makeup, and reluctantly, getting changed. Today, however, felt different. As if the dark clouds in my peripheral vision had turned to light. I grabbed my keys and drove to the beloved Ruffed Grouse High School. 

Homeroom was always torture for me. My desperate classmates made sure that I started each school day doubting and hating myself, even though mother nature handcrafted me beautifully. All I saw was what those bullies wanted me to see. I walked in with my head down, in an attempt to avoid the inevitable situation altogether, but these attempts always fail.

“Good Morning, Cake Batter.” Jarred, the highest ranked student in my class, snickered from across the room. He puffed out his cheeks and wobbled around, mocking me. Jarred came up with “Cake Batter” during sophomore year. Even now, two semesters into my senior year, the name still cuts me like a knife. The knot in my chest prevented me from acknowledging the abuse. All of his friends began laughing, but I never engaged. I just shook my head and looked away. 

My homeroom teacher, Mr. Saltzman, walked in with his satchel. Once he pulled out his laptop, he began to take attendance.  “Jarred Adams” he began.

“Here,” Jarred shouted, startling the entire class. 

“Carter Awain,” he continued. 

“Here,'' a voice whispered in the back.

 My heart sank. I knew exactly what was going to happen next. 

“Cady Baker,” Mr. Saltzman said, as if those words did not pierce my chest. 

“Here,” I mumbled, trying not to call attention to myself.

“How could you even ask if Cake Batter is here? It clearly takes up the entire room” Jarred snarled towards his friends, and again, they all began to laugh uncontrollably. Instead of shaking my head and ignoring it, I stood up, walked towards him, and ultimately lost control. 

“You know what Jarred, just shut up! You are disgusting. Do you enjoy belittling people and conditioning them to hate the beautiful body they were blessed with? Do you hate yourself so much that you want everyone else to feel the same? I am flattered that you are genuinely concerned about my life that you felt the need to rename me ‘Cake Batter’.Your creativity is superb. Thank you Jarred, now go rot in Hell.” 

I could not believe the words that came out of my mouth. He looked as mortified as I felt. Jarred’s friends just stared at him, waiting for him to come up with more intense insults to attack me. However, Jarred stood up, grabbed his belongings, and called me some sort of derogatory name before leaving the classroom. I had no reason to react to any of it, instead I smiled. I finally stood up for myself. Mr. Saltzman continued his attendance, disregarding the whole situation.