Me vs. My Body

I became unbearably insecure as a child due to my peers and family’s constant comments on my weight and looks. As simple as it is, it managed to carry on with me all this time, even though I have been trying to overcome it for an immeasurable amount of time, half successfully. I never had the ideal weight or body type, thus I became the butt of the joke for many people in my life. An odd sense of melancholy beats in my heart for my younger self as I’m remembering what that small child had to worry about at such a young age. The bullying never was extreme, however it definitely made my younger self reevaluate my worth as a human being. The idea that if I lost weight, I would be accepted by everyone and all of my problems would be gone sparked in my mess of a brain like a lightbulb and suddenly weight loss became my top priority for many years to come. However, The effort was not there and I continued to severely struggle until I was about 13 years old. My mother put me on diets, gave me ‘pretty pills’ and my entire family excitedly commented on what I ate and how I look. Despite their outspoken opinions, they encouraged my binge eating and continued to provide me with food which I should not have been consuming based on their ideals. I was confused by these contradicting actions and never understood why they, specifically my mother, cared as much as they seemingly did. That was until one morning, my grandmother brought me my usual calorie-packed greasy breakfast. My mother snapped and—if my mind recollects correctly—she shouted at me, blaming me for eating the breakfast I was given. I then finally understood why she was doing this in the first place. She was embarrassed of me and this was not just an assumption manifested by my self-conscious self. I could hear her voice loud and clear as the pieces were finally put together. Her self-projecting, however, clicked later which brings me the simple feeling of sadness, but the shame I felt during that encounter still sits in my memory clear as a summer spring.

For long I though that my journey of disordered eating began when I was 14, but I believe I was very wrong for thinking that. I used to binge eat at almost every given opportunity and no one was there to properly stop me. Surrounded by boredom and with a lack of a meaning or understanding of my life, I ate to pass the fleeting time. Finding excessive comfort in food only increased my loneliness which was wisdom I did not carry or understand back then. I got used to my state of being and began living in a blissful lie which was me thinking that people would appreciate me for my personality rather than my looks sooner or later. However, I still shied away from interacting with my peers as deep down I knew I would be rejected if I tried to establish friendships with them. I deeply understood how disgusted people were with me and I was too. The only method that helped me cope was lies upon lies and excuses. I went on the defensive, grew aloof towards anyone who might’ve tried becoming my friend. Because rejecting people before they got the chance to do it to me gave me the feeling of having the upper hand. My responses to small talk were often laced with venom, quick snappy responses carrying a tone as cold as ice. Never would have guessed this would lead to me having significant problems with forming meaningful relationships later in my life, yet here I am. Being the mysterious, detached girl was greatly alluring to me while still deeply craving attention and deep connection from others. These two faces of mine were at war up until I managed to lose 20 kilograms of weight at the age of 13 and saw the world around me shift. Comments such as “I can’t imagine you being skinny” that I received from my classmate when he saw I was buying diet foods turned to “How much weight have you lost?!” over the span of a few short months. All of a sudden I was bathing in attention and recognition and I became obsessed. My looks became everything to me and I meticulously began picking apart my other flaws. This worsened as my weight loss started becoming old news. I had no one else to show off to which left me feeling numbingly empty. Should I lose even more weight? I wasn’t exactly thin and could always go farther. I desperately craved for people to acknowledge me, to be seen and I was going to do anything to get it.