Dear Mom, I know You Expected Someone Else. Sincerely, Your Daughter.

I'm going to start the story by telling you my secret first. I just want to get that out of the way. I starved myself when I was thirteen years old.

Remember that time when Uncle John came over with a load of blueberry pies and homemade sweet cream? I helped you set up the table, while Dad and Josh got ready because, of course, they wait until the last minute. The room was filled with the smell of blueberries and toast, the sound of crackling from the fireplace that we never use unless guests are over, and your laughter. In fact, everyone seemed to be in a great mood. Everyone, except for me.

You see, I was thirteen years old. By that age, you have already been thrown through the wringer of middle school. You tried your best to show me what is most important. Love, both for your loved ones and for yourself. But I guess my armor had some cracks in it because kids can be very mean. A few words can cut as sharp as a real knife and leave a wound that doesn't necessarily heal.

When you are told certain things about yourself by multiple people, it will get to you. I remember quite clearly, how excited you were for me to dress up in a princess costume for the Halloween parade at school. The smile on your face was enough for me to wear it. I was not much of a girly girl at the time.

What you don't know, is that many girls in my class saw me in my yellow sparkled dress and retorted with hateful laughter. "You're so fat. You have got to do something about this." A cold rush of blood spread across my arms and legs. My heart leaped to my throat, as girls looked down at me in embarrassment and true hate. "Why me?" is something I would ask all the time.

Rushing to the bathroom, and facing the person in the mirror, was a transitional moment. That was the first time I really took a good look at myself. My fingers grazed across the gold and silver glitter. I took a deep breath in and out, watching my stomach expand. That was the day I decided food was no longer a pleasure I could have.

So as we sat there, as a family, taking in each others' presence and stories, I was somewhere else. You placed a slice of my favorite, blueberry pie. When you turned away, I meshed the pie into a napkin and hid it away. I couldn't have anyone knowing my secret.

When you bring a child into this world, the best-case scenario is that you will be a mother who wants nothing but the best for your child. You think of the qualities you hope for them to have, stories you will tell them, lessons you will teach them, and the love you will show them. All you ever did was show me how to truly love myself and be positive. It worked for a while too. I was a happy kid.

But you never know what is happening to your kid, once they walked past the doorstep. I'm sorry I never told you about the pain I was going through. I hope this helps you understand why now, at 23 years old, I am struggling to live my life. It's hard to live life when you hate your appearance. I know none of that should matter and that I am wasting time. But, it's easier said than done.

That being said, I bought a slice of blueberry pie today. I made sure to ask for some sweet cream because let's be honest, it's not the same without it.