Growing up in an urban area, I understand that presenting ourselves in a decent manner matters a lot. But when growing up I also noticed how much people valued size. People who are fat were always taught to love themselves. I do understand that self-love is important to an extend. I feel this whole self-love concept is like an odomos to mosquito bites. The mosquitoes and they biting us will never stop. Hence, we protect ourselves by applying that ointment. But what about the people who make such nasty comments? Do they do it on purpose or do they not realize what they are actually doing?
I have been in this size, all my life. I have seen and heard people passing nasty comments about me. These people were at times the people I call friends. I have had difficult days while shopping with my mom or when we go to a party. It’s really sickening when people form this link between your size and your habits. Wherever I go ,I was (still am) always assumed to be older than I am. I was once asked if I was studying 10th standard when I was in 5th standard. I am still not sure if it was a joke or a mistake but I remember everybody laughing. Everybody except for me. After every weekend the parents who come to drop their kid at the bus stop would ask me if I had spent my time sleeping throughout the two days. I would say no, and they will ask in a surprised tone — “oh really.” To cover up everything they spoke they laugh and slowly move away. When the school takes measurements for dresses to stitch, I would definitely be called up. I would have no idea why they have called me and would follow them. There they would take all the measurements and finally pass a comment saying “she is the largest girl” or “she has the largest measurement.”
When I eat something along with friends, I will always be asked what I like other than this or that. When I list out the food items, I would be interrupted. They would say, “see how you have to list out stuffs. If you ask me, I will say I like everything except eggplant.” When I eat something that people term healthy, diet food, I would somehow bump into this irritating soul, and this soul would ask in the most concern filled voice “are you on a diet?”. When I fall sick, my eating habits are blamed. When I open my lunch, teachers give me a sarcastic smile. When I sit next to my friends, my wrist width is always compared with theirs. On top of all this, people who fall under the category ‘acceptable’ complain about gaining weight.
It hurts. It pricks. It feels as if someone is stabbing on multiple areas all over your body. Trust me no one can ever heal. It has been 20 years, and I have become used to people commenting on my size (in the most subtle or direct way) yet, it hurts just the way it did when I was a kid. This size is not something I chose or worked towards. I got it when I entered this world. I was never given an option. I have been taking so much of effort to reduce it — since 1st standard. Maybe it is my fault if I had not taken any step. But I do. I don’t want any appreciation or thumbs up, but I do expect the space to let me enjoy my life. All these years I have been haunted by the thoughts of what people will say or what people would advise on my weight or what nasty comment they will pass. When teachers confront me about my self-esteem issues, I would always be told to start loving myself and I would hear that same teacher pass nasty comments about my size behind my back. I understand I am different from the majority. I don’t ask for acceptance I only ask for space. I don’t want aunties to ask me to lose weight. I don’t want friends to comment on my eating habits or the folds when I sit. I don’t want teachers to tell me to exercise. I don’t want teachers to make a nasty general statement on size. I just need the space to move on. I need the space to accept myself.
All these years, I have always been told that my issues are all about self-image, self-esteem, self-love, etc. and was always asked to ignore the comments or start accepting myself. But the 4-year old me did love me. The 4-year old me thought I was beautiful. As I grew up people told me I was wrong. On top of all this, I am the victim of such harassment, and yet, I am always blamed that I had, self-issues but never once was the opposite party confronted or realized the harm they were doing. 20 years down the line all I remember is hearing a sorry in an unapologetic tone, and the next moment they continue the same thing. All this made me lose hope on teachers, friends, relatives – human beings. Forget about teaching self-love. I think what we have to teach this ruthless world is empathy and compassion.
…
Random Thoughts 