The Beach Whale out of water
I will always remember the day that boy called me the beach whale out of water, it's followed me around ever since, like a Dorset tone in my ear playing on repeat in my head. Growing up I have always been the friend who is taller, little bigger, had an arse and had the curves. That wasn't always a good thing when I was younger I was in a friendship group of small girls with petite figures and long lushes locks I always knew I didn't fit in with them. They where fun and outgoing and I was shy and nervous always looking for an excuse to get out of uncomfortable situations. These girls where seen as "cool" they where out every night drinking and doing drug the majority of them had lost their virginity before they had even learnt what a tampon was they slept round like it was a regular every day necessity-blow jobs, hand jobs, fingering and more these girls claimed to know what "men" aka boys wanted. They told stories of how you should act with a boy and that it's was normal to be labelled with the term slag and that it was something in which as a young 13 year old girl you should aspire to be like. Then there was me the uncomfortable slightly larger girl that... REFUSED to be subjected or change myself for some boy that wanted one thing from me like he had already gotten from my friends. By 14 I had become the "mum" of the group watching my friends drawn their livers in the local corner shops cheapest cider filled with all kinds of crap watching their pupils dilate, I can no longer see the iris. Chaws swinging like the old playground set that rots away in my back garden, I would sit a pray that they didn't fall down that I wouldn't once again have to sprint like an Olympic gold medallist to the closest shop for help. My lungs tightening as if they where shrivelled up leaves on the side walk. A thanks never followed, the mother of one of the girls smiles but never thanks my mind wonders what would of happened if I hadn't acted, yet no thanks was given her daughters heart still beating...barely. Yet no thanks given! The boy came around over the next few month spouting the famous words which would ring in my ears for the next four years, out on the park sat on the bench talking me sat in my leggings and oversized top he spouted the words "where is she the beach whale out of water?" people laughed and pointed repeating those words no one stopping to think the effect it had made. My face burning from the embarrassment I didn't eat for the next three days. In group chats my name changed the beach whale I was shamed. Questioned by what I ate and asked if I was sure I needed anymore. Now 19 and proud those thoughts still in my mind I no longer pray for the scales to be wrong. I no longer cry with the thought of my thighs, those girls barley live they're just misfits in the night. Taught by my mum those curves are good my body is a temple she praises me for. She built me up so high above helping me learn those people don't matter. The stretch marks that lie along my thighs are mine no others in the world look quite like mine, when people ask who's you're fighting thought. My mother my partner the one like no other she cheers in my corner smiling from a far she's now proud of the women I am today.
