My story has many layers.
Some layers I was able to shed,
And some I still carry with me.
My problem is that I was born with an extreme case of dowager's hump,
And it looks very pronounced when I wear certain clothes.
When I was a child,
My mother tried to get it fixed,
But that meant that I had to wear a huge back brace all the time,
Which gave me a hard time with the kids at school.

I couldn’t keep wearing it.
The conflict between the nagging at home to wear the device,
And my schoolmates who made fun of me or gave me weird looks,
Sent me into depression in my early teens.
This shaped my personality later on.
In the end, I chose my mental health and stopped wearing the device.

I got older.
I graduated and got a job.
And even though people treat me normally,
It exhausts me how I feel trapped in a certain way of dressing,
So that my body doesn’t offend anyone,
Or how I dress to avoid the looks they give me when they figure out that I was born with a problem.

The most difficult moments are when I’m walking down the street,
And I overhear people behind me saying things like,
“Why is she so hunched over?”
“She has kyphosis. It’s none of our business!”
One time, someone stopped me to tell me about a place that might be able to treat me.
It’s stuff that might seem small, but oftentimes it hurts.

Sometimes when I hear mama praying for me to get married,
I joke with her and tell her,
“Your daughter looks like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame,
Who’s going to love her?”
She gets upset and cries,
And I can’t tell if she’s crying because of my situation or because of my pain.

I wish I could walk tall and wear the clothes I like,
And be accepted by the people around me,
Without feeling that the sight of me is offensive,
Or that I am something weird or pitiful.