When I first learned that no one could ever love me more than me, a world of happiness previously unseen was discovered because somewhere along the line of aging and scrutiny and time, I was taught to despise myself. But I made sure I kept myself beautiful, so someone would love me someday, so I could belong to someone someday, because that's the most important thing a little girl could ever want. Right? I was 13 the first time I was embarrassed about my body, of course, it would not be the last. And I remember stuffing my bra in the morning, tears stinging my eyes, hoping, praying to something that I could look beautiful enough today, braces and all, for the ruthless boys who mercilessly told me I was worthless because my boobs weren't big enough.