The first time I got called pretty was when I was 15. I had battled a really terrible illness that almost took my life. It didn't though, but it took my weight. I was having difficulty keeping my food down as I was vomiting everything, even when my stomach was empty. I went from a 75kg to a whooping 50kg and that was a miracle. What had taken my work out too long to achieve, the ailment had done within a short period.
I remember feeling unsure of myself as I went back to school, people commenting on how much weight I had lost, how I looked really good. I remember how that made me feel. It gave me some kind of high that no drugs ever could. For the first time, I was considered pretty by others, aside from my parents, I had female friends fawning over me, my name made it on the list of prettiest girls and I was third on the list. I felt powerful.
For the first time I got a taste of pretty privilege, the boys in my class rushed to open doors for me, carry my books, do my homework, I even got numerous people asking me out. They often paid for my lunch and those of my newfound friends and sometimes, when I went to the market, I got stuff for free. People are generally nicer to you when you’re conventionally attractive.
It is really true what they say, beauty is a social currency. One that I finally had and wasn't willing to lose. I would do anything to keep it…anything except not overfeed. Yes, I had an over eating problem. That was the main problem. I loved to eat, I loved junks, I loved fries, I loved food and I just couldn't bear to leave those behind to remain skinny.
So, during lunch break, I would eat all that I wanted, and about ten minutes to the end of lunch, I made my way to the bathroom to ease myself. At least that was what I told my friends when they asked how I managed to remain skinny despite eating all of that. I didn’t tell them that I had found effective use of my index and middle fingers.
Olanna knew I was lying. She’d caught me once in the bathroom and I’d sworn to have eaten something bad. She didn't believe me but she'd kept quiet about it and quietly declined all my invites to hang out with me and my friends during break. It was a struggle to maintain this newfound fame but knew that I had to. I had to keep it because I'd been the undesirable, the butt of jokes, the one that was always picked on and bullied and I didn't want to be that person anymore. I wanted more for myself. I wanted so much more.
Eventually, forcing myself to vomit was no longer enough. I had to do more, and that's when I began to use laxatives. And truly that was more effective because now I didn't have to hurry to the bathroom anymore immediately after each meal…well, except when I to run to the bathroom to stool, now that was where the real struggle was. But that was perfectly understandable because… everybody stools.
The downside was that I began to lose more weight. The fear of being told “you’ve gained weight oo” drove me to diligently take my laxatives. And when people said “You’re losing weight”, I pretended to be shocked and not understand what was going on while in my head, I rejoiced. Because the more weight I lost, the less my chances are of getting fat and being treated poorly again.
That was when my parents and friends began to worry. I looked sick, I was so skinny my head was the biggest part of my body and a mere glance at me would have you wondering if my thin neck was hurting from holding up my head, people were horrified that I was going to collapse at any moment and I scared the kids.
I was no longer a recipient of pretty privilege because I looked like the undead, instead, I lost my friends and grew more hairs on my body in a bid for my body to keep me warm. I was being bullied again, I was the butt of the jokes, I was again, the undesirable.
My parents pulled me out of school and sent me to a mental health facility where I went through intense rehabilitation and came out at a weight that was considered healthy. I attend support groups, both the overeaters anonymous and the anorexics and bulimics anonymous and try to do everything with moderation. I'm committed to staying on the straight and narrow and making sure that I don't relapse.
DISCLAIMER: This is purely fictional and is not an attempt at fatphobia or skinnyphobia, if anything, it's a cautionary tale to let people be whatever weight that they want to be. Stop body shaming. Body dysmorphia is a real thing. I do not claim to know much about eating disorders or really how weights work and which is considered healthy. That being said, I may not know much about EDs but I also know that shaming people with EDs doesn't in any way help them. Also, please note that overeating is not the only cause of fatness, certain conditions such as illness and genetics contribute to how much people weigh. Be kind. Thank you.