“Uy, tumataba tayo ah.”
“Namamayat ka ’ata.”
“Mukhang napapasarap tayo ng kain ha.”
“’Yan lang kakainin mo?”
“Uy hinay-hinay.”
My body, specifically my weight, has been my all-time insecurity. Growing up, I’ve always heard these side comments or unsolicited pieces of advice from relatives, friends, and even random people. It never did matter to me. I guess it just piled up, and that’s when it had a bearing on how I viewed myself. It made me question what their questions were for.
“Am I fat?”
“Do I have to lose weight?”
“Am I eating too much or too little?”
“Is there anything that I need to change to stop these comments?”
There was nothing wrong with how I looked. There was something wrong with their outlook.
There is an immense amount of societal pressure to be a woman, and I was expected to act accordingly, but I did not approve of that. Growing up, I never felt that I needed to lose weight, but I felt that something was wrong and needed to be changed whenever someone would pick on my body weight. During elementary, it was easier to shrug it off as I was focusing on enjoying my childhood. It was during high school that I became self-conscious about my weight. I observed that having a slim figure is seen to be attractive, to be admired. Besides, I guess it was part of teenage angst, I was at the stage of adolescence. I was still figuring things out; socially unaware.
I had a love-hate relationship with my body.
We all want to be accepted, to be seen, to be heard. Instead of defying the norms back then, I decided to subscribe to the ideal beauty standards. I decided I must lose weight to be considered “beautiful.” That’s when it started. A trigger warning for anyone who suffered from a body disorder. It was then, during junior high that I slowly restricted myself from eating too much until I was unconsciously starving myself. I exercised excessively. Thus, I lost a lot of weight in a few months. I looked skinny and unhealthy. Yet, I still felt that I must lose weight. What I saw in the mirror was different from how other people viewed me. I did not understand why they thought I was skinnier. Yes, I suffered from anorexia nervosa. It lasted for seven or eight months.
“Uy ang payat mo na.”
“Grabe, kumakain ka pa ba?”
“Anong sikreto?”
“Nagda-diet ka ba?”
“Wow, sexy na natin ah.”
Did I feel happier? No. Did I feel content? No. Did it boost my self-esteem? No. I felt nothing at all. Nothing changed. My happiness and how I viewed myself were dependent on how others perceived me then. But happiness must come within, with me, by loving and accepting myself.
My road to recovery was easier, thanks to my parents. They were there to support and help me gain myself back.
How am I doing now? Never felt better. I feel happy, content, healthy, and confident. It was not an easy journey, but I was able to conquer it.
“Ate, paano po maging confident?” she asked. A question that lingers in my mind until now. How do I answer this question? When I’m still learning and dragging myself out of this hell hole of self-consciousness. But what intrigued me most was the assumption that I look confident. Despite this, I felt the urgency to answer the question as if I could immediately help her gain confidence right there and then. So, I answered: “Acceptance of our shortcomings and imperfections.” A seemingly simple yet one of the hardest pills to swallow.
A flashback of bittersweet memories came to mind. I felt like two completely different people. I can say that I’m the better version of myself. I know I’m still a work in progress; that will be every day of my life. It still amazes me at times how I’m able to focus on loving and taking care of myself now. My younger self would be proud. It’s undeniably true that you radiate the energy you give to yourself.
Now, I hope we treat each other with utmost respect and kindness.
* * *
Denelle Justine Ramos, 21, is a communication arts student from the University of the Philippines Los Baños.
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