As horrific as it sounds, I was
happy about it. I proudly showcased it to my other classmates, letting everyone
know I was underweight. To me, it felt good. I had a mentality that I was one
up from the other girls who wasn't.
When I was 11 years old, I thought
of things a child shouldn't have thought.
It seems silly now that I think about
it. However, I was easily affected by what people perceive of me and I was
scared of judgement. I wanted to stay underweight. I kept starving myself and I
had problems eating. I refused to eat at meals and even if I did, I only had
salad. It was pathetic really. I was the party-pooper at every family dinner
since I didn't want dessert.
My parents soon gave me a good
set down and I listened to them. They said I was too skinny, so I started to
slowly eat properly. I got rid of unhealthy friends and clung on to a couple of
mates who made me feel better (they were big girls and they didn't have qualms
on other’s perceptive of them) and belonged. From them, I learnt that eating
normal meals wasn't wrong.
I put on a little weight and got
compliments from relatives but I wasn't happy. I felt uncomfortably big yet people
think I look better that way. Alright then, I kept eating. I had no idea then
that I was over-eating and once I did learn about it, it was too late.
I was left doing things I
probably shouldn't have done.
When I was 13 years old, my
self-esteem was nil.
But no one knows. No one could
ever tell. I still made friends, I mingled around and got into a CCA. I had nice
teammates and good teachers.
During the mandatory height and
weight noting, I hesitated. I wanted my teacher to be discreet about it and not
pass any snide remarks. I swear, at that time, I didn't need any.
“Wow, you’re heavy.”
I was 50 kilograms and I was one
of the shortest in class.
“You don’t look 50 kilograms.”
My weight was taken next to my
other classmate, who was my height and she weighed 10 kilograms lighter.
And because I craved so
desperately to feel just a tiny bit better about myself, I started to nit-pick
flaws in other girls. My 13 year old mind justified this by thinking “Hey, you
deserve to be a little happier.”
Which was the worst thinking
anyone could have.
When I was 15 years old, I was
world weary.
I was tired from all my personal issues and how much I weighed was the last thing on my mind. It was disappointing that I didn't shed off some kilos from exhaustion but I didn't think too much about it. By this time, I was used to it.
“Why would you tuck in your shirt when you’re so fat?”
“Don’t you think you should go for a jog?”
“You've gained so much weight since primary school but you’re still
pretty.”
“You’re so rounded now! I couldn't recognize you.”
“Wow, you’re solid. Is this muscle or fat?”
Commentary from family and
friends had me seasoned. No matter how wrong it is to get used to harsh criticisms,
I did. See, the reality is that once you’re exposed everyday to hurting
comments, you don’t get affected as much anymore. Although it still hurts and
you’ll think about it for days, the level of offense that was at a 100%, has
now dropped to 70%.
I tried to exercise but I just
didn't have the motivation to do so. Once I dropped out of my CCA due to
studies and injury, I lost all interest in taking care of myself. I felt sick
of keeping up appearances. Like, who
cares? Why should it matter how I look like? Even if I had the nicest bod,
but I wake up every day feeling disappointed that I didn't die, what’s the
point? I'm trying to be more focused on keeping myself happy.
Besides, isn't it more important that
I’m okay with how I look? I mean, I’m the one to look into the mirror every
morning. If the sight doesn't offend me, why should it bother you?
That mentality sustained me for a
while and I was a little happier.
I turned 17 and an old friend
caught up to me.
By this time, weight was never an
issue anymore. I learnt to accept myself and shut off criticisms. I was too
busy to deal with things like my image anyway.
I was, however, disappointed by the hypocrisy of it all. You force fed a young child, making her think it was okay to keep eating, and let her find out in the harshest manner how wrong it was. Once you yourself realized how far gone this child is, you gave her 'constructive criticism', wanting her to go back to how she was. Why don't you just verbally and mentally abuse her to death while you're at it?
Rants aside, I left secondary school
and entered tertiary education.
Everyone is so… put together? And
I felt envious. Here’s me with my lesser than average face, pudgy image and not
so bright mind, wanting to fit in with prettier girls.
What a joke.
And my 13 year old mentality
settles in comfortably again, smugly smiling and saying,
I caught up to you.
