I don’t know how to be skinny. How strange is that? How absolutely hilariously absurd is that? I am anxious in my body. Anxious in my skin. I am overwhelmed by my utter lack of fat. I have always – and I mean always – been the chubby one. I wasn’t obese per se but I’ve always been overweight.
I’m the chubby cousin, the chubby sister, the chubby friend. I’m the one that can’t share clothes with every one else. The one no family member is ashamed to ask “when will you start dieting?” to. The best part of this is that I’ve never been overweight. I’ve always been at the very, very edge of my healthy BMI range. I was a size 6.
That being said, my mom was 110 pounds at 5’1 after giving birth to my brother. Take that in for a second. 110 pounds after giving birth! I have been plagued with the image of what I should look like based on my family’s comments and my mum’s constant criticism. I’ve grown accustomed to eating as a “Hah, fuck you” to my parents. I’ve grown accustomed to being quiet as girls talk about clothes. I’ve grown accustomed to the fat.
I’ve dreamed – I mean passionately and whole-heartedly dreamed of losing weight. I’ve imagined it – the sweet taste of size 2. The beauty of a thin toned stomach, beautiful long legs, and a nice jaw line.
And I’m finally getting smaller. I mean that. I’m really losing weight. How bloody insane is that! I’ve waited 15 years to lose weight! I guess I’m a little scarred from the fat comments as a kid – so maybe I have an excuse for being a little terrified and confused at the moment. Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m just a little whiny.
Either way, I’m really confused. I don’t have clothes that fit properly, I don’t know if I should wait to buy new clothes or keep swimming in the shadow of my body. I don’t know if I can eat the junk I used to or if it’ll sky rocket me back to my old weight. I don’t know what to do with this body! Is it attractive? Is it gross? Are people as confused and terrified as me?