MEMOIR
WARNING!!: Content Not For Children!
By: Alicia Veronica L. Aguila
The moon is bright making it hard for me to sleep; twisting and turning as I tried to avoid the light shining directly on my face…. I give up. I stared upon the blank ceiling of my bedroom; I think about all the things that happened in my life that made me who I am today. A quiet and silently ambitious girl, merely longing to be a part of a society that overlooks her; or rather just a girl overthinking if she’ll even make it to her 30’s.
Every night has been the same lately... I often find myself unable to sleep and sinking deeply into the question “why am I like this?”. Often times I get up in the middle of the night and stare at myself in the mirror while my family is asleep. I dwell a lot on the way my body looks. Bony in some parts and fleshy on the others; the blemishes and imperfections on my face; my scarred knees and patches from my allergies; my scars covering my wrist and shoulders.. Everything about my image just never stops changing; some days I see a sickly thin girl in my reflection; and some days I see myself as a kid again, shoving my double chin in one side of my face, wishing I didn't look the way I did. One thing stayed the same about my reflection however.. to me it's as repulsive as ever.
People often complained about my looks all my life. They pick on every detail of my body, as if scrutinizing every dot in a piece of art. They often point out things that grow big and small on my body, often making myself feel compelled to slice off parts of me to fit their ideals.
There was a time in which I was simply saying hi to my grandfather whilst my aunts were also talking to him. They looked me up and down and pointed out that my chest and shoulders were getting bigger. In that moment I felt repulsed considering the fact that it was my first attempt on actually getting better.
I caressed my shoulders with my fingers from that thought, feeling every scab of my healing wounds. I’ve always hated this part of my body the moment that someone pointed it out. It’s the one part of my body that I always tried to change ever since, but even if I worked out until I’m in the verge of passing out, my eyes still see it just as horrid and repulsive as they did.
I was bullied a lot growing up due to the fact that I was a “fat kid”. I was called a pig and was left out a lot during play times in kindergarten due to my size. I remember how they pushed me so hard that I fell when I tried to join them climbing a hand statue. “don’t let her join, she’s going to break the statue”, said one of my classmates. Everybody laughed and I just ran to my mom’s arms in shame. Oftenly I looked at myself a lot in the mirror as a kid, thinking about every word they say to me until I was in the verge of tears. One time I cried in front of my mother asking if I was fat, I can see the pain in her eyes even through the tears that ran down my cheeks.
As the years flew by, being called the fat kid was something that I got used to hearing already. I loathed my very existence, often moving my chin to the side or sleeping on the side and looking at only half of my face through a mirror. I often tried to imagine what I looked like if I was thinner. I also sucked my stomach in a lot, something that I learned to not feel like I’m taking too much space.
I got sick during my trip to my father’s hometown one time and lost my appetite for the rest of it. I remember how good it felt when my aunt told me that I looked prettier because I got thinner, the moment that we arrived from the airport to our grandparent’s house.
It was the summer before my grade 6, when I started to follow workout videos in YouTube and giving myself a strict diet until my portions got smaller and smaller to the point where I didn’t eat anything at all. I thought about what my aunt told me after that trip. I thought about how everybody would finally adore me if I didn't have a body that I did.
Everybody in my school was surprised due to how my body changed so drastically over the summer, and complimented me in every way. I never felt so desired and beautiful after that, even the bullies stopped picking on my weight.
But the fame and beauty didn’t last that long as the compliments started turning into concerns as I was getting thinner and thinner by the day. I felt confused as to why they complained about the way I look now. I didn’t understand why they were so concerned, because all I knew was that being thin was the only way for me to be loved. I wondered why the people who picked on my body so much, were the ones who acted so concerned when I finally changed just the way they wanted.
a few later and its still the same. No matter how many times I try to get better, the higher I climb to success, the harder I’ll fall back to the same habits. drastically worser as I grew. I resulted to only eating once a week and using black coffee as my energy source. I counted and searched every single calories in the food and drink that I'll have before taking a bite or sip.
I looked up at the mirror infront of me and weakly tied my hair up before pulling my shirt back and and checking my waist. 'not enough..', two words that I often mutter to myself as if I chasing a certain goal.. Only this time, maybe it was my death.
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2 years has passed since that thought. I am now 16 and still recovering, the damage that it caused still impacts my body to this day. Cartain things still trigger a lot of those thoughts, making me want to vomit or starve myself again.. But instead of going back to who I was before, I think about all the years of growth and healing that I went through, and let that fill the holes that my past once bore.
We're too young to let other people's opinions push us to challenge our health.
Bodies change as we grow,
please let your healthy spirit show,
and let the negativity go.
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