I grew up pretty cute, not gonna lie. My eyes took up half my face, my cheeks took up the other half, and I was the only one in my family with pin straight hair that curled at the bottom to make a natural bob. Every photo of me up until I was 5 was me tilting my head to the right, so far that it created multiple chins. Adults found that hilarious, since those were the only proof of existence I had at that age.
My maid once told me that I was one of the easiest babies to take care of, because a bar of chocolate and rice would shut me up for hours.
All was cute and funny, until I entered primary school. A round belly and chocolate stains on my lips were acceptable in kindergarten, but kids got a little bit more vicious at the age of 8, got worse at 10, and hit their peak at 12. And to not have changed from when I was 5, boy was it rough.
When I first entered Standard 1, I was the only Muslim in class in a pinafore. I'm sure it was my cool grandma's doing, but I was fine with that, I grew up in lace dresses anyway.
I didn't mind being the only one, either. 7-year-old girls already in tudung was weird to me then, but I didn't really care or found it weird. Not the same was thought of me, though.
Being mistaken as a non-Muslim by my first ustazah was very confusing to a 7-year-old. "Why did she just tell me to get out of the class?". My confusion was apparently hilarious to other classmates.
I became tired of being a joke to them, so I eventually forced my mum to get me my first pair of white & navy baju kurung. The heat and the discomfort sometimes sent me to the girl's toilet crying alone, but because I refused to have another reason to be laughed at, I kept that to myself.
Then I got into Standard 3. Baby fat still intact, in my tight baju kurung.
I remember my first friend to ever get her period was during this year. She had developed boobs and grew a bit taller, she looked so adult. Then, one by one, all my friends started getting their periods.
By Standard 5, almost all my girl friends had theirs. Mine, to my horror, came mid-Standard 6.
Everything became new to me so late, so I was always considered "lame" to them.
But to my surprise, and eventually my despair, the three most popular girls approached me at the canteen during recess. Half a nugget in my mouth, I looked up and saw them smiling at me.
"Hi Tania! What are you doing alone? Come lah sit with us there.
A*iq and Fi*d*us is joining us, you told S*rah you find them cute right?
Come lah, they want to talk to you!"
They..? Want to talk.. to.. me? No time for self-questioning, I packed up my breakfast and sat with them. Their seats were untouched, everyone knew to not sit where they sat. So to be invited over was a huge deal for me. They were really nice, they even bought me another packet of nuggets.
Every day from then on was spent with them. I would beam when I see them hailing me over when I step through the front gate of school. Topics of discussion usually revolved around boys and how other girls were "sooo lame".
Then I started noticing something, definitely not soon enough. The corridors of our classes were so small, it perfectly fits 3 small figured people. Somehow I was never part of that trio.
I found myself walking behind the three.
If you didn't catch up already, The Super Three were slim-figured, tall and the apple of every boys' eyes in the year.
If you were wondering what the same boys thought of me, I'll spare you the details and leave you with just this. I was a librarian in my last two year of primary school, and we had this hideous vest we had to wear over a shirt. They were custom to our fit, and mine was one of the bigger sizes.
After physical ed. class, we had to change back to our uniform from sports clothes. The boys in my class would tell one of the girls in my class to take my vest and exchange it with someone else's of a smaller size.
Obviously, I couldn't fit in it and went on with my day without, frantically looking for my own.
Due to the unnecessarily strict period of changing time we had, I had to enter class with just my shirt. This lead me to a one-way ticket to the office. After my truthful explanation, I was told that I was seeking attention and wanted to be "stylish" in school by "accidentally forgetting" my vest.
In my defence, if I wanted to be stylish, I would've just dropped out of school.
Anyways, I was then given a spare vest, but it couldn't fit me. The teachers in the office, whom we were expected to respect and trust, snickered and someone said under their breaths,
"Gemuk sangat ni kalau tak muat sample size"
Just so you know, prior to this, I had no idea the reason I was being treated this was because of my size. I thought everyone was just mean and I was the chosen one.
After that day, everything made more sense to me. Those free nuggets weren't out of good heart, it was to laugh at me for eating so much. Those times I walked behind them, it was because they thought I couldn't fit, literally.
This all happened when I was at the age where I was finding my self-identity. So when I all I was being fed was that the shape of my body determines how I was being treated, the same thought followed me all throughout my teen years.
When my mum told me I was going to a secondary school far, far away from my primary school, I felt relieved. I was embarrassed to show my face to anyone from my previous school anymore. And it also meant a new start. No one knew me, no one knew my past, no one will ever know.
So during the little time between the end of my final exams in Standard 6 to my first day in secondary school, I put myself through what I believe hell would feel like.
Dinner was non-existent, this was when I completely cut down on rice, I stopped McDonalds cold turkey, I skipped rope thrice a day. I was 12 fucking years old.
When I started my first day of Form 1, I was 6kgs down, I could fit into my tiny sister's old uniform, my cheeks sunk in, my wrist and collar bone stood out. I was basically a skeleton. But I loved it, because I had always been told that the thinner you are, the better you look. And I looked thin.
True enough. Within my first year of being a proper teen, people actually wanted to be friends with me, and not because they wanted to laugh at me. Boys started asking for my numbers, cute boys..
People started treating me differently. Better. I was always being told I was pretty.
So alright, I found justification to my theory. It was all true.
But was I really happy? Of course not. I had spent my preteens exercising and cutting down of junk food, saying no to ice-cream while everyone else had them, counting calories. And now I had to spend my teens living up to what people expected of me? Which part of my life do I get to create an identity for myself that did not involve anyone else's opinion?
But it was way too late. No matter how many times I get that inspirational "I'll do whatever I want" thought, it gets swept away by the thrill of someone telling me, "You lost so much weight, you look so good!".
And now, I get so upset at every 0.1kg I gain, at every ruined eyeliner wing, at every bad angled photo of me.
Why? Because since I could remember, the way I looked stirred the wheel at the perception of who I am to everyone else.
I'm only human. I gain sometimes, I lose sometimes. Weight, pimples, friends, self-esteem.
But I feel like I'm not allowed to.
I blame others, but I also blame myself for letting others do it to me.
