I had been called a slut and a whore so many times (and knew how much it hurt) that I adopted it, and used it to hurt someone else.

I don't remember how many people called me a slut, or how many times it happened. I do know that, as bad as that made me feel, I now feel even worse for having used that "weapon" against someone else, years ago. I lived in a small, conservative town. I don't even remember when I was first called a slut, or by whom - possibly when I was 12, and my mom found a condom in my then-boyfriend's wallet? He was my first boyfriend, and we did nothing more than kiss and hold hands - I think the condom was more about wishful thinking, or bragging, or something - but he never tried to put pressure on me. My mom forced him to break up with me (I only found this out many years later). She would continue to accuse me of being a slut and a whore for the majority of my teenage years. In high school, I was one of those kids who walks the line between being popular and unpopular. Some people loved me, many more hated me - but for some reason, everyone had a strong opinion about me. Even if I'd tried, I couldn't have slipped under the radar. It didn't help that my parents were supposedly "prominent" figures in the community. I was accused of a sometimes paradoxical set of things during high school: being a slut, a prude, a lesbian, a Satanist. This came from friends, family, my mother (especially), teachers, and other students at my school. Most of my friends were male (I'm female), and living in hostel. At some point, a teacher from the hostel told one of my friends that they shouldn't come visit my house on "town" days anymore, because having a number of boys visiting me regularly made me look like a slut. I had a boyfriend at this point. He supported me then. Years later, long after we'd broken up, he raped me - but that's another story. The thing that bothers me most is that there was another girl in my class whom I tried to shame. She and I detested one another - I'm still not sure why. Some of my friends made a poster pronouncing her "slut of the year," and had me print it. They put it up at school. When it was found (fortunately before many people could see it), I got all the blame. I felt resentful, because my so-called friends shifted all the responsibility to me, and because this girl and I had openly called each other sluts a number or times. A few years later, she and I became friends - we still are. I apologised for my part in the poster. To this day, I am sad that I did that - partly for her, because it was such an incredibly mean thing to, and partly for myself, because I had been called a slut and a whore so many times (and knew how much it hurt) that I adopted it, and used it to hurt someone else. I'm very grateful that the girl and I have been able to make amends since then.