All my life, I’ve always been fat. I grew up believing that. I grew up with people telling me how round my face is and how big my arms and thighs are. But looking back through my old photos, I won’t say that I’m fat. I don’t know why I felt that way before. It pierced through my bones, but I didn’t actually give a fuck. I didn’t take it personally. I considered it as a fact rather than an insult. I was okay with it.
But never, not even once, did I feel good about my body.
I can’t wear tank tops because my shoulders are too broad, and my arms are too thick. I can’t wear crop tops because I don’t have a flat stomach. Every summer, when we go shopping for swimwear, I always end up buying rash guards instead of bikinis. I kept my hair long because people say cutting it short will make your face even more round. I’ve always wanted to try a pixie or bob, but I didn’t get to do it.
My mood keeps on changing from starving myself to eating to death. I get stressed so easily that I always just eat all my anxiety away. I am insomniac, so you can’t tell me to just sleep it off. SO, I EAT. A LOT. What’s funny is I always regret it afterwards. But then, I do nothing about it. I know, it sucks to be me.
There were a couple of times I deprived myself of sweets. I even stopped eating rice. I came to the point where I just drink and drink water until I feel so bloated that I end up throwing up. Not healthy, and I would never suggest it. But I felt like I’m finally losing weight—in a very bad way. It didn’t last, though. My mind went like “fuck what other people say”.
So I eat and eat and eat again. I even cut my hair short this year. It felt nice.
My BMI says I’m still under the “normal weight” but if I eat more than my usual, I’ll be overweight. I am so close to loathing myself more then. I really did gain weight for the past two years.
I don’t like what I see in the mirror.
I feel so ashamed every time the people I haven’t seen in ages tell me I’m getting fat whenever I bumped into them. As if I don’t know that yet.
I know it’s all in my mind.
I know I’m the only one who can help myself.
I know I’m the only one who can make myself healthy.
I used to think that what matters is what’s in your heart; that you have brains. But in this world where people are raised with scrutinizing eyes and you get judged by your physical appearance, it’s hard to be comfortable in your own skin.
I hope we all find the courage and strength to fight against our insecurities.
Thank you for being here. If my words reach you somehow, I hope you can support me by donating either through Ko-Fi or Paypal.
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Very beautifully written. Yes we all have some or the other insecurities regarding our physical appearance. The way you have penned down is highly convincing and empathetic. Society never lets us be happy the way we are.
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