My mom desperately wanted male attention, and I guess she was projecting.

My mom was overly invested in my ability to get and fuck guys. Not in high school, though if I *had* been sexually active in high school, I think she would have high-fived me. But from college on -- yes. I dumped one guy in college because I didn't want to sleep with him, and he kept pushing me for it, so that clearly wasn't going to work out for either of us. My mom was *appalled* when I told her why I dumped him. "Why wouldn't you just have sex with him?!?!? What were you THINKING?!?!?!?" (She is THE WORST.) (Though my dad isn't any better, because about 15 years ago -- when I was at least 40 pounds lighter than I am now -- he told me I needed to lose weight "Because men don't want to sleep with heavy women." Yes, I was in my 30s and my own goddamn father told me I wasn't fuckable.)

That should explain a lot of why I'm in therapy.

I was wearing a C cup in fifth grade, when I was 4'7". That was ... ugh.

and then I just...forget about them. Because they're classed in my mind as just part of the experience of being female.

That's the wrenchingly awful part. I've been thinking about my past, and realized that every romantic relationship I was ever in, with the exception of Mr. Loomy THANK G-D, involved coercion, ignoring when I said "I don't want to", and taking advantage of times when I couldn't consent. None of those are an "or"; all of them were regular features of all of those relationships. And I didn't realize those things weren't okay! I thought they came with the territory of dating someone, and that having regular sex with someone didn't mean I was obligated to have sex with them whenever and wherever they wanted.

And that doesn't cover the leering, inappropriate comments, and groping I put up with from about age 10 on.

Oh Hil, that is just horrible. It makes it all the more impressive and remarkable that you achieved the level of academic success you have. Yellow bellied me probably would have quit school and never entered a school building again.

Academically, I did terribly in high school. I got into college entirely on my test scores. Getting away from that environment, and meeting entirely new people, helped a lot.

My parents (well, mostly my mother) sometimes discussed switching me to a private school -- probably the local Jewish school (where, if I had gone, I would have been a classmate of Jared Kushner.) If I'd pushed for it, they probably would have transferred me there, but I wasn't really confident that it would be any different.

And thank you, everybody. I was kind of freaking out last night. Getting triggered sucks.

And I'm not talking about this at all on Facebook, because whenever I mention it, my mom calls me, crying, to tell me how sorry she is that she didn't help me more or do something, and then I have to comfort her, and I'm just not up for that right now.

Hil, ugh. It's exhausting to have to comfort someone who's distraught that you're upset. My family is like that too. Either they minimize my experiences or they get me to do it to make them feel better.

There's so much more to all this than the rage and sorrow at the sexist mistreatment. Anger at how others responded to it, despair at being emotionally abandoned, grief over what could have been in a world that worked differently. Who would I have been if.

Hil- the comforting is exhausting.

Zenkitty et als. I did lose weight by addressing my diabetes. Unfortunately I have to say the comments come back. Not just cat calling or whatever, but literal conversations with coworkers about my nice figure! (These are older women). I should dress to show off my nice figure, how am I single with my nice figure etc. it seems absurd to complain about having a nice figure, but I am a Myers Briggs INFP, I live mostly in my head not my body so it is weird to me to constantly be aware of it.

It's so painful to read all these things and know that so many other girls were hurting the same way. I developed really early, too, and all of fifth grade I had boys (outside school) calling me "Mrs. Mature." It was humiliating, even if the insult itself was pretty mild. It drew attention exactly where I didn't want it, because I hated that there was nothing I could do about it. I was already ashamed and freaked out that I was the only girl I knew who had her period.

It teaches you at a really early age what men want from you, and at the same time, what they think of you for having it.

and then I just...forget about them. Because they're classed in my mind as just part of the experience of being female.

Yeah. Yeah. I've got a whole barrel of memories that keep resurfacing and then sinking, and it makes me want to drink an entire barrel every time it shows up.