My name is Christina. But you call call me Chris. I'm 15. I'm a cheerleader. Honestly, when you think of a cheerleader, you think of this perfect person: blonde hair, blue eyes, teeny-tiny waist, and a toned ass. Those adjectives are not even close to the description of me. I have brown hair, brown eyes, a confused stomach and a flat ass. When I say "confused" stomach, I'm not joking. I'm a 4'10 and three quarter-not skinny, not fat, fat chick.

My friends always talk about their body types. My best friends, my tall, pretty, flat stomach, perfect looking friends like their bodies. I've never liked mine. I hated my body type. I hated everything about it. The problem for me is that I wasn't even sure what the hell my body type was, and I thought I was the only one with it. I did some research. I was "skinny-fat".

Now you're probably just as confused as I was. It means you look skinny, when in fact you are somewhat pudgy, but you wouldn't notice unless you didn't have a shirt on. If I gained any weight, I would be overweight. If I lost it, I could look amazing. The struggle to keep my weight the same was unreal.

I always knew I was bigger than the other kids, and I had accepted it at a young age. I had boobs by 5th grade. Now, I'm standing here, 5 feet off the ground with a 32H bust. Boobs don't help in making me look thinner, but at least people are distracted by them. Guys ignore the fact that I'm not a twig, they like saying they're talking to a girl with big tits. (You take what you can get).

My metabolism is confused too. My dad, standing at his wedding with a 34 inch waist had the "skinny" genes, (and jeans. Ha, see what I did there?). My mother's side is a little on the bigger side, but it isn't too bad. This being the circumstance, my body could go both ways. As you probably guessed, I'm aiming for the smaller side.

My body proportions are off too. Jeans never fit right. I can never order things online, because if I did, there's no way anything would fit right. Finding a pair of pants that actually fit me is a miracle on it's own. Let me tell you, there is nothing I hate more than shopping for clothes. Nothing looks good on me. I can't wear crop tops. I can't wear half of the things I want to wear, because nothing fits me right. I degrade myself with a little voice in my head each and every time I try something on. The voice gets annoying and mean when the clothes don't fit. Sometimes I "forget" to eat that day.