I LOST IT

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I did it. I finally lost the most precious gift my body could give me: my virginity. Not to mention I did it with this guy—I don’t even know his name! All I know is that I needed to loose it; he was willing to help, and bam! Goodbye innocent purity. I had lost it. Now I am becoming like everyone else—un-pure and loving it. I was so happy. I told all of my friends and even people that I was all right with. I told them all! But the best part is that they all were happy for me. I t was as if I just joined this group, this cult, and all I had to do was loose my virginity. I lost it and now I am accepted. I am one of them.

So now my status has gone up. I did it three more times and now I am the classic slut. I watched myself change—it was almost as if the transformation was literally overnight. I dressed for sex, letting most of my cleavage show, the back of my thongs or underwear stick out above my jeans, wear super short shorts . . . I went the whole extra mile, and now my name is very popular, especially at school. I have more friends that I can count and more guys wanting to be my boyfriend. Do not get me wrong, I was never ugly, but now it was as if I was Angelina Jolie or something. Best part about this was that I was never lonely and I had options.

Everybody wants to be popular to some degree, but no body wants to be the bad kind of popular. Somebody filmed me having a three-some with two guys; then they filmed me lying on some random bed while guy after guy screwed me. I was so drunk that night that all I remember was waking up outside with a sore, throbbing, vagina. It hurt so much that it hurt to walk, but that was the only way I could get home. Worse thing about that was that those guys posted those videos on several web sites. Now the whole world knew my name and my parents knew what I had been up too because my name was all over the news and they were watching it with horror, pain, and sadness etched in their features and reflected in their eyes. I was popular for being . . . nasty and I shamed others and now I was forever shamed. All because I had lot it.

Feeling their stares, hearing their snickers and sly remarks, sensing their distain, and feeling guys touching me for brief moments in various places, all made me feel lower than dirt. Insignificant. Empty. Lonely. Stupid. Used. I was broken; completely broken with no one to talk to. I mean I could talk to my parents but I did not want to get preached at and feel even lower—if that was possible.

I pulled my Bible out of the drawer that I had put it in two years ago, dusted it off, laid it on my bed, and stared at it.

God?

I’m here.

All of a sudden the tears just fell like thick salty sheets of rain. I could see nothing except my shame, loneliness, worthlessness, guilt, stupidity, insignificant; my sin. “Oh God!”

I bowed my heart as I knelt on my knees. Humility consumed every fiber of my begin as the tears started to fall. Scenes from what I had done flitted through my mind like a horror movie. I could not stand myself any longer. I started to cast down my idol of sex and popularity and turned my eyes from the evil things that I craved.

“Oh God, I need you. I need you so bad! Give me clean hands, a pure heart, keep me from going astray oh Holy Father. Help me to seek your face o God of Jacob!”

I sobbed for hours on end, my throat raw from trying to hold back the balls of anger rolling up my windpipes. I pleaded and begged God for forgiveness, for renewal, for meaning. I could feel the shell of the hard-core, sex-loving girl I was slowly start to crack and fall off and the hurt, super-fragile, wanting to feel loved girl emerge. I walked over to my mirror and barely recognized myself.

A tall thin body stood across from me in the mirror. The person had reddish-brown hair framing a caramel-colored face with thick lips, a wide nose, and almond shaped eyes. Her fingernails and toe nails were painted clear and she was wearing short, short blue jean shorts and a white cami that revealed the belly piercing and the tattoo on her back. Both were permanent reminders of the girl I was becoming; but the faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth was the sign of the girl I am becoming.

I lost it and there was no way of ever getting it back. I let that one guy take it even though I knew we meant absolutely noting to each other. But in the process of going through all of this, I found myself.

I sat cross-legged in my bed with my Bible turned to Hebrews 8:12 “For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.” I could feel God drawing me back to Him little by little. I was changing again in a good way because I am not changing myself, but letting God change me.

The biggest question I ask myself is whether I think that what I went through was necessary to get where I am now and my answer is no. Keep your womanhood until the right guy comes along—until you are married—for your body is only innocent once and only pure if you loose your innocence with the guy or girl you were destined to be with. I lost mine when I was fifteen and now I have to live with myself for decades more.

“I once was lost, but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see.” I am so thankful that God found me and I Him before it was too late.

Do not do the same things I did to reach God, to find His love, because, even though He found me, I lost it. Big time.