TRIGGER WARNING: Discusses mental health and eating disorders. Do not read if this seriously triggers you.
Yesterday, my friend told me “yeah, I hate her with her petite feet and ability to fit into everything”.
What I remember:
- Being poked in the stomach and being asked why I was so bloated, at a hotel buffet dinner.
- Being told that I was too curvy and my roots were terrible one month after having my son.
- Being told “oh, so you’ll never be able to wear a bikini” and “ah, you’re still fat” three days after being discharged from the hospital after having my son.
My image of myself is distorted.
- My mother circling her fingers around my wrist and feeling my ribs asking herself what happened to my baby.
- I remember smoking menthol cigarettes to soothe the burning in my throat after throwing up my meagre dinner.
- I remember being 39kg.
I remember being stuffed into a school locker – straight out of a teen drama – and being small enough to be comfortable in there but also screaming due to claustrophobia and being manhandled by boys twice my size. I remember hating that I was soft in all the wrong places and had no boobs, no butt and I felt like I was barely a person (just 50% eyeliner).
I laughed the comment off.