Crooked is the way you explain a picture on the wall but never a person. But sometimes, at the age of ten, you are told that you are indeed crooked. Scoliosis is something I've always known I've had but at the age of ten, I didn't imagine it would cause problems forever.

When you are young there is this idea that you will be young forever and along with that, be healthy. At the age of ten, reality set in when I had my spinal surgery that I was not healthy. That was the moment I stopped trusting my body. Maybe I should have never expected it to be 100% perfect but, I was a child. I wanted to be like everyone else. Instead, I quickly realized that my body could not run like the other children, could not flex like other children, and felt more pain than most children do. I also had more scars than most. And from ten to some days even now, I see my naked body and I want to scream; "Who would ever want me, when I don't even want me?"

Years later, I found out that fourteen-inch rods screwed into my spine could not stop it from continuing to curve further down. That doctor's appointment was simply another person telling me that you will never have a perfect body. So, I am crooked again. I see it every time my hair is in a ponytail or I am wearing something strapless. I would contort my body in pictures to ensure that I look normal because if people notice, they ask questions. The last thing I ever wanted was attention on the thing I hated most.

Despite all of this, at now twenty-two, I wake up each morning thinking, "I am so amazing. And not only that but, I will be better than I was yesterday". My confidence did not grow in a day but took years to do. It started small- only wearing clothes I liked rather than whatever my mom bought me and developed each day. Because who cares what anyone else thinks about you, except you when it comes to your body? My body is my home. It does not live for anyone else besides me.

I'll admit, there are days where my body decides that it has worked enough and I am in pain. Scoliosis cannot handle the stress of two jobs, college kid work, and everyday life. And I lay in my bed crying about how sick and tired I am of my body. But when I am done, I remember how beautiful I am. I have my father's nose, my mother's lips, and curves like Aphrodite. I've kissed boys, gotten drunk in unfamiliar places, and laughed until I've cried. My body may not be like everyone else's. It may not live up to Vogue magazine or the girls on my Instagram page but, it is mine. And it will be enough for me.