Your UnSlut Project

Submitted by @Uniquam

It’s a bit long, but stay with me. It’s all true and it’s my story. I was twelve. I lived more within the pages of a book than I did out of one. One of the smartest kids in the class, but quiet and introverted. Didn't really talk much with boys... but loved the few friends I ever had with fierce passion. I was certainly not a part of the notorious 'in-crowd'. ...and had no desire to be in it. I was happy. The lack of attention suited me, and I made my own, unaffected little world.

Where I live, relationships are forbidden among students; getting caught meant suspension or expulsion, but the simultaneous growth of great admiration towards you and your other half in the student population. It was forbidden territory, you see, and nothing lures in a bunch of pre-pubescent kids than the big, bold taboo something holds. People with boy/girl friends were revered and gazed upon respectfully.

Some called them sluts and whores with underlying admiration beneath their scowls. I don’t even think anyone knew what the word really meant.

The 'love-letters' they wrote were eagerly transported from class to class by a faithful set of messengers that were also admired. The girls were forever giggly, and were always whispering secrets to their elite friends that we were never part of while their respective boyfriends spoke of them as though they were their property; prettier the girl, bigger the ‘catch’. But really, they did nothing other than write sappy letters, gaze at each other and abuse their position of power by swearing (this was considered really cool) and badmouthing people like us.

And it was around this time that my life began to fall apart. I was called ugly, big-haired, fat and full of pimples. I wanted to be pretty and popular. To be revered and admired and mostly, have a boyfriend. I was an only child with no neighbors or nearby friends and I craved the ‘love’ a boyfriend would give me. My self-image began to worsen rapidly. I tried swearing loudly at school, talking of nothing but sex and boys and hating the girl in the mirror.

I quarreled fiercely with my mother who tried to object, and hurt her much in the process. She was a single mother and I mocked her for giving up her entire life for a guy who cheated on her.

And around this time, I started to throw up my food. I would starve myself valiantly, cave in, binge eat and throw up. Again and again. I know how it burns when a distorted version of something you ate rushes up your throat…how lightheaded and unreal everything feels when you’re starving…how it is to run your shower and your iPod while throwing up to mask the sound.

So much happened in such a short time. My entire life and personality changed. Slowly, my grades dropped and I got a ‘reputation’. I was called a slut, even though I had barely kissed someone. Some detested me, others mocked me… and I found none of the admiration or love I searched for, only that I had ruined my own life.

My wakeup call was Tumblr, a year ago. There, I learnt so much about equality, self-confidence and love… real love, not the façade of untrue letters and barely nothing else I was having. To say a website changed my life would be cliché and unbelievable, but denying it would be untrue.

Since then, I can say honestly that I have become a better person. As our classes changed, I drifted back to my studies and old friends, ones I could talk with about more than just boys. My grades rose and I got back into the hard work I had ignored, and learnt its true value. My mother and I still have our differences, but I no longer hurt her. Yet, something in our relationship will never be the same. I still have weight problems. No one calls me a slut anymore, but I’m no longer popular.

Life isn’t perfect, but I am much better than I used to be. The people I hung out with last year are still up there though none talk to me anymore. My ‘boyfriend’ has a new girl to exchange badly spelled letters with and wink at. I’m fine with that. Balance has seemingly been restored to the universe.

The girls in the it crowd always had perfect hair, slim figures, giggles and a ‘feminine’ appeal. I thought that was what a girl should look like, and that all that mattered was looking pretty for a boy. I was wrong. I thought swearing and calling people names was cool. I was wrong. I thought what I had was love, and I was wrong. (Hey… anyone sensing a pattern here?) I thought that I could call people sluts because of what they wore and whores because they had boyfriends. I was wrong. And jealous.

I was called a slut once in my life for no reason. I will never call anyone anything again. Clothes or an active love life doesn’t make a person. Neither does weight, race, religion, beauty nor sexual orientation. You don’t have to change yourself to fit in, because sometimes, you find that what you wanted so much isn’t what you thought it to be at all. Don’t hurt your mom like I did. She loves you. Don’t call anyone anything. If you think a person’s fat, bite your tongue and do no more than think it. A simple word can ruin a life.