I always had an issue with the way I looked and felt in my skin. It goes back as far as kindergarten and it will probably go on for a little while longer. Nevertheless, I hope it will change soon but I know that it will take a lot of courage and love to better myself.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be black like the other kids in my class – black to me was anyone who was darker than me and not necessarily of African descent. I was a pale skinned newborn with big blue eyes and a massive amount of blonde hair glued on my head. My parents thought that perhaps they had switched babies in the delivery room because I looked nothing like them. My mother is olive skinned with dark brown hair and hazel colored eyes. My father is a mulatto. Both were products of a mix; my maternal grandmother is half Cuban and half Haitian and she married a German-American man. My paternal grandmother is Haitian and she married an Italian/Dutch man.
I wanted to be dark like my adopted sister and olive skinned like my little brother who by the way took all the Cuban genes for himself. He tans, I burn.
Then later on in life, around junior high school I developed a weight issue. I was going through puberty and gained some weight to accommodate my transition to womanhood. At the time, I felt as though I had gain so much weight and looked terrifyingly obese. I also had my mother who would constantly monitor what I ate – she feared that I would resemble my father’s family – All the women were on the heavy side, whilst my mother’s family were tall and skinny.
I developed an eating disorder in High School. I would go days without eating in hopes I’d please my mother. I was nearly 100lbs my junior year of High school and still…to her, I looked heavy. She constantly compared herself to me. I often heard: “my wedding dress would never fit you”. Tis true. It will never fit me. She had a 24inch waist and “A” cup breasts. I played tennis in HS and with that came muscle mass. I was ripped and weigh 120lbs. There was nothing I could do to change that. I literally cried myself to sleep thinking that I will be the size of my aunts.
In College, my eating disorder turned into 3 hour work out sessions every night. It wasn’t effective. After my break up with Hope my junior year, I lost control and plunged back. I didn’t eat. I replaced my meals with drugs and alcohol. I looked unhealthy but everyone applauded my weight lost success. It felt good to be skinny.
After college, I was between 110-130lbs. I was bulking up at the gym because I figured the ladies would love washboard abs. They did.
I met Texas (my ex roommate) when I was 25 years old. I was fit but definitely not at my best. We moved in together, we ate great food all the time and I fell in love. With love came weight gain. It is only natural – you are happy, you eat, you party and you have fun. I must have gained about 25-30lbs during those 3 years. It didn’t bother me – I was happy until I noticed that she didn’t look at me the same way anymore. I felt rejected but she only mentioned my weight gain during our horrific fights. But I knew…
And my eating disorder came back – I felt unwanted and the only way to fix it was to purge whatever I ate. Behind closed doors, I hugged that toilet for dear life and imagined me being skinny. It worked. I took pills to boost my metabolism, I worked out and I went hungry. By the time it did work, we had already broken up.
Now, 2 years after I moved out of the place we shared, I am back to my ideal weight – 130lbs. For my frame, 130 looks good. But honestly, I am not completely satisfied with the results. This time around, I didn’t starve myself, instead I was on a “clean-eating lifestyle” which is eating nutrient-rich, low-fat meals – no processed food: No sweets, no sodas, no alcohol, no factory made breads ect…I made a lot of raw juices, baked a lot instead of sautéing food with a ton of butter and I cut red meat and rice from my weekly meals – a staple of comfort food for my heartbreaks.
For the first time in years, I looked at myself in the mirror last weekend and I noticed that my abs are showing tremendously, my thunder thighs are slimmer and my biceps are lean and strong. But still…I am not satisfied. I am afraid that I have been putting myself down whilst everyone congratulated me on my victory. Fat scares me. I am not attracted to overweight people because when I look at them, I see me. My small circle of friends are not obese – because sometimes they lure you with crappy foods and you give in and you become them. Then again, at some point in my life I must have been someone’s fat friend. That is my biggest fear and I hate that I think that way because it is wrong.
My mother has come around and realized that I had a serious problem. Just the other day, a good friend of hers told her that my body resembled someone who had a few kids.
My mom replied: she is a size 2.