Even as I’m living in the modern-day era of radical acceptance of all sizes, the pace of this wave could not possibly catch up with the age-old culture of thin privilege. Not anytime soon. Not within my lifetime, I fear.

The Story of My Body

I don’t talk about this problem with any of my friends, but at least here, I can be real how it feels to live in such a culture. I grew up as a skinny girl, and I remember vividly, when I was in 6th grade, my home teacher told me I had the “prime body of a woman.” Now looking back, of course, what she said was extremely problematic. How could you say to a girl who hasn’t even known a speck of adulthood, that the childhood body she had will be something lusted after, culturally, by men and women, and that she in the future will constantly push herself to revert to that weight of a 12-year-old girl?

When I got into 8th grade, through a slew of emotional roller coasters, I spiraled into a much heavier shell of myself. I was immediately, and constantly reminded that the body that I had was way too big, that my thighs jiggled, and my arms flapped the way “no woman should.” I became severely depressed. I didn’t tell anybody about this, because I was ashamed. I tried working out in secrecy, buying smaller-sized clothes to “prepare” for my thinner body. I starved myself. I even spent my meager allowance on diet pills and detox teas that were advertised by already-thin Instagram influencers.

Nobody seemed to know how obsessed I was with my weight. To talk about weight, in this day and age, feels like talking about sex with your parents. But the problem pervades, its claws hang in the air in every room I step into, every romantic relationship I step into, and every conversation I have with a close relative. The truth is, people of this era like thin people. If not ozempic-skinny, then naturally thin. Thin waist. Slim arms. Toned calves. I don’t know if it came from inside of me or outside, but I came to like thinness, too.

Over the past several years, I gradually got thinner from exercising daily and a healthier diet. I also exercised to be emotionally healthy, and I think that’s probably the biggest bulk of it. As I got thinner, the treatment towards me was drastically different. Men like me more. Women treat me better. The store clerks don’t think I’m stealing. Managers open up to me from day one. Moms, and my mom too, envy my “youth.” I love all the validation, but I know what it means. The state of my body fat percentage pushed me into either two categories, YES or NO.

Others, but also Me

There is something called a healthy weight. But if most people that become influencers and celebrities are thin, most girls who are successful with romance are thin, most clothes for women are thin, if society prerfers thin women, then by the swing of the market’s pendulum, us young women aspire to be thin. I feel better when I’m thin, and I get sick of that thought. It’s a struggle daily to remind myself that I deserve love no matter how heavy I am, despite society reminds me otherwise.

I worry silently about people around me. My cousin developed an eating disorder from her mom, who is my aunt, the same woman who questions my weight every time I come home from studying abroad. She struggles with her own eating disorder too, something that only I know, because in my culture it’s given fact that a fat woman should want to lose weight – I’ve never seen her eat anything else but green salad and sesame dressing for years.

In the modern day of overconsumption and exponential availibility of hyper-processed, disgustingly cheap foods, it makes some sense for society to value thin people. It suggests that thinness is reserved for the wealthy, ones who have the choice to work out for one hour daily, or the money to shop at a local organic market, or the time to cook at home from scratch. So, if you become thin, you can become a part of that higher elite society.

I didn’t write all of this to just ridicule how silly it all is. I think, we all know this. We just don’t talk about it to each other. Honesty is sometimes too depressing.

I’m writing this to say, even if I do go on any diet, even if I’m still petite, even if I still aspire to become thin, I beg that I could have this honest conversation to somebody. That I workout for myself, but also for the twisted peace of mind that I fit in, and I’m acutely aware of what I’m doing. That I’m knowingly following the herd. That I don’t very much enjoy it, but nonetheless society is always in motion, and we hardly have the time to wipe our disturbed minds blank clean and stat over within this short life.

I’m going on a diet today, wish me luck or curse me out. Both are okay, I understand you.