I was born the prettiest among my sisters. My skin was the fairest. I was the tallest among my cousins.
(Demn.. Aku rasa macam patut padam opening statement ni.. )
I was thin once.
I weighed barely 50kg when I was growing up. I would say I look my best when I was 46kg. The look on people face when they realize I was wearing my youngest sister's shirt who was 7 at the time was priceless. And I loved dressing up. I loved make up.
But people didn't know how messed up I was. They didn't see it waaay back then. When I was 13, I used to throw up after every meal. At first I forced it but soon it came naturally. I ate like a pig and forced it all out within 10 minutes. There was always that unpleasant sour taste in my mouth. I was constantly hungry. My gum bled frequently. Not just during morning brush. I used to gross my cousins out by sucking on my gum to make it bleed. It bled so easily you see. And my mouth either taste like sour milk or copper or a combination of both.
And the acid reflux. God the acid reflux. I had gastric on a daily basis. I was somewhat obsessed with my weight. One time I heard about my younger cousin weighing 38 kg and I was determined to lose as much. So when I got fever, I thought it was the perfect time to lose a few kilos to hit below 40kg. And I succeeded. Deep down I knew it was unhealthy. I was not stupid. If anything I was considered brilliant among my peers. I knew I shouldn't go below 40kg. That was insane.
I don't remember when but I think it was on some science text book back in secondary school that I learned the word anorexia. Was I anorexic? But I was fine. Aside from my post-meal ritual and gastric, I was doing fine. So I thought. The signs were there. I hate looking at the mirror, despite being thin and 'in shape' at the time. When I looked into the mirror I saw a chubby girl with jiggly cheeks and and big thighs. I hate the sight.
Only after I saw a photo of mine, taken in my camisole that I really noticed how skinny I was. I don't remember how much I weigh at the time of the photo. And at that time people were more concerned about my sister being a bit on the chubbier side than me being a living walking skeleton. Or maybe they just didn't see it underneath my school uniform (I was in religious school. I wore loose clothing and big long hijab)
So I snapped out of it. It wasn't easy but I wasn't just fighting my take on body image at the time. I had other issues too that made it irrelevant. Made it seemed easier than my other demons.
I let myself go, big time. I was okay with it. I first hit 45 kg when I was 18 years old. How did I know this? I remember this because I forced feed myself to reach that weight so that I'm eligible for a blood donation. Gram said I looked much better with some meat in me. I felt great. I didn't think too much of it. But then came the next phase in life. My metabolism dropped. I started to gain weight. Little by little. It hit the hardest after a break up. Food was my only comfort. I was never good at opening up to my family. I had this belief that I had to be the strongest, I had to be reliable. So when I lost the people I love in life, I didn't show it to my family. Mum used to say that I was a tough kid growing up.
But I was dying inside and I refuse to talk to anyone. And I kept throwing shit into my body. My weight sprung from 50 kg to 60 kg in two months. And it had been increasing steadily over the year. I weigh around 70-75kg in recent years. I don't weigh myself anymore.
I kept telling myself, hey it's your body. Whether you're fat or skinny, if you're happy with how you look, why would it matter? A guy told me that I need to hit the gym. I was getting way out of shape he said. And I retorted jokingly that I love being fat. I don't care what people think. But who am I kidding. Of course I care. Yes, I fucking do.
I'm constantly conflicted between wanting to lose weight, getting back to the dating scene or just try my luck in men with my current image. Hey, guys who can't except you when you weigh 75kg don't deserves you at your 50kg! That is absolutely true. And it's not about wanting to look good for the guys.
I just had it with people pointing out my weight issue. Yeah I made fun of myself being fat. Yeah I seemed unfazed by the fat joke. But deep down I'm hurt. I hate it when people make fun of me. I used to be very conscious about my weight to a point that I hurt myself. I am 28 years old now. Not a 13-year-old. I don't want to be crippled by this issue anymore.
I just hope society would stop fat shaming people. Not even when the person themselves is making fun of themselves. Don't you know that every self directed joke is a stab to our declining confidence?
I don't know where I'm going with this.
Honestly you can't see it..
This was how I dress and all the bones were sticking out underneath all that..
(Wait, this is not about bones or weight or shape or what ever. It's about how unhealthy it was for me to react to my 'imperfect' body by throwing up and how unhealthy it is still to over-eat every time I had my heart broken.
I hate this.
I hate this entry.
It makes me sound like an entitled little shit.
Do I think I look beautiful? Yes. I do.
But do I also think I look awful? Yes that too.
This is what's wrong with me. I can't explain what I think about myself. What I know is, I will always hate the skin I'm in. And I hate the soul that resides in it )