I was raised with my four brothers, that implies constant insults to bug and offend each other. But on some specific days all of them took it against me and in a sort of a chorus, called out to me: “Fat”, “black”, “Ugly”. Throughout my childhood and adolescence my brothers called me that so many times, that they distorted my reflection on the mirror, when I looked at myself on the mirror, that’s what I saw: An ugly, fat and black kid. Besides, at school people called me “lion” because of my big hair volumen, and eight out of ten people made a comment regarding the size of my breasts.
My boobs and my curly hair became my biggest complex. I wanted to reduce them with surgery but my dad didn’t allow me to. My hair I could handle though…on an insecurity outburst, I went to the hairdresser and got rid of that lion’s mane. I left it very very short. -Needless to say I regretted it within a week-.
I’ve had a very distorted image of myself by listening to other people. So distorted that if the guy I liked came onto me, I rejected him thinking he was making fun of me or was betting with his friends. I was 14 years old, the entire high school was french-kissing everyone or even having sex; whilst I was pushing away every guy that approached me. My best friend at the time constantly said to me to get it over with and kiss guys already. She even explained how to move my tongue when french-kissing. But I couldn’t even make it to the flirting part…
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My 15th birthday party was happening soon. In few countries in America it’s a tradition to throw a massive party or to have a big trip on your birthday number 15. I was organizing my dream party in Spain when my brother Enzo announced he was getting married few months later. My parents and I decided to wait and celebrate it when we travelled to Paraguay for the wedding because in Spain it wasn’t a tradition and I had more friends and family in South America. When the time to travel was arriving, Enzo and his fiancée broke up, no wedding. That idea of travelling to Paraguay floated in my parents’ heads…
After that talk with Mica something changed in me. There is a before and after. I approached my dad and told him how I felt: That I really wanted to be an actress and I felt less important for not playing soccer. I think he finally understood a bit more about my dream and that it wasn’t just a typical kid’s dream. He said:
+“Honey, I don’t like that career for you, but if you feel so sure about it it’s for a reason. If you want to act, do it”.
So I asked him why he wouldn’t lift a finger to help me make it happen. He replied:
+‘’If you really want it I support you, but I cannot help you. I work in FIFA, soccer is my thing. I know exactly what and how to do it. But I have no clue about the film industry, have a look and tell me where you want to study and I’ll drive you there and pay for the monthly fee, deal?”
He hugged my tight and I smiled. I went online as fast as I could to research my options. I found a workshop being held at the adjoining city, where they travelled to every day for my brothers’ soccer practice. Lucca was injured so he wasn’t going to practice, I took the chance of the spare seat and went with them.
We arrived to the workshop, my parents joined me in it because they liked the idea. I went to the classes every day during my brother’s injury. When he recovered, he needed to go back to practice, in the car could only travel five people so there wasn’t room for me. I had to give my acting classes up for my brother to go practice. 
That broke my heart. I felt that my brothers’ dreams were more important, they were the priority in my house. It was sad, unfair and discouraging. I got to my sister’s house and told her about how I had to quit for them to do their thing, I felt with no support from my parents again. 

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