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I’ve always been a big girl. I’ve always been the tallest kid in the class. The awkward, tall, fat girl who was made fun of for being too tall, too fat and too... much. I was always made to feel as if I didn’t belong because I didn’t look the way the other little girls did.
It was never said outright, but it was definitely implied that I had to try harder than the other girls because I wasn’t pretty or thin, and my hair wasn’t straight, and my eyes weren’t green, and I didn’t have a pageant-winning smile, and I preferred books over Barbies and, and, and...
I carried this into my teens. And it got worse. A lot worse. I started cutting myself at 15 because I was so depressed – about many things, but mostly about my body. Why couldn’t I be just a little shorter so I didn’t look so awkward in pictures next to my friends? Why couldn’t I be a little thinner so I could wear shorts without feeling like a fat mess? Why couldn’t I be pretty so boys would like me?
Eventually, with the help of friends and a lot of introspection, I stopped cutting at 18.
But I still wasn’t really happy. I still wasn’t okay with me. I still, actually, really hated myself. And I didn’t know what to do about it. So I ate. In front of people. In secret. I ate too much. I ate the wrong things. I hid chocolate bars in my room. I tried to fill the hole inside me with food. But it didn’t work.
So now I was even fatter. I had more stretchmarks. My tiny breasts (which is usually odd on a big girl) stayed the same damn size just to spite me, my tummy jiggled a little bit more, and my fucking hair still didn’t do what I wanted it to.
So I ate even more food and got caught up in this vicious cycle of body hate, food, and misery.
I tried joining the gym, but hated it.
I tried eating “healthy”, but was miserable.
I tried “fixing” my hair with relaxer, straightener, hair dye, etc, but it broke off.
And then, I looked at my shitty hair, ugly body and miniscule boobs. I really looked at them. I realised that I made myself unhappy by trying to make everyone else happy about the way I looked. I had become less of myself because I was made to think that literally being less would make me somehow more. I had to be what everyone else wanted me to be.
And then I said no.
No. I will not conform. No, I will not lose weight so everyone will be happier with the way I look. No, I will not put shit on my hair *gasp* so my unsightly curls will go away.
Then I went out and bought a crop top with my best friend. I now have three. They’re pretty awesome with a high-waisted skirt. I also cut my hair into a style I actually wanted.
And once I made the decision to be happy with my body (I still have issues, but I am working through them), I stopped comfort eating. I still eat, don’t get me wrong, but I now know when to stop, so I’ve lost weight.
But the best thing that happened when I learned to love myself and gained confidence? I found someone great who fell in love with me. He doesn’t care about my body issues or that my hair doesn’t always look great. He sees the other stuff about me that was hidden under this massive cloak of self-doubt and hatred.
And I’m really happy. Not just because I’ve found someone special. But because I can now see that my body is not the problem. It is all I have and I need to be happy with it. The problem was thinking that I’m never going to be happy or okay because of it.
My body is my own and it is important. I’ve learned to love the curve of my bottom and the shape of my hips. I’m making peace with my stretch marks and flabby arms. I’m grateful for my legs that work and look really good in pencil skirts, and the eyes that can see and have pretty eyelashes.
And while I’m still dealing with being fat in a world obsessed with being thin, I’m okay now. And I hope this helps someone who wasn’t planning on taking a step in the right direction.
How do you deal with body issues? Tell us in the box below.
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