Once upon a time, I was an overweight middle-schooler who was bullied mercilessly not only for being gay, but also for being overweight. During that time, I was going through some difficult situations at home that led me to seek refuge in food, a coping mechanism that led me to weigh around 200 pounds. Every day was constant torture at the hands of my peers for not fitting into their mold of beauty. Being called all the F-words in the vocabulary was as common for me as hearing the bell announcing period change.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t spend most of my nights in 7th grade crying myself to sleep, yearning for a smidgen of acceptance. Most of my middle school years, I spent suffering in silence. The worst part is that I started believing that I wasn’t worth existing.
For a long time, I dreaded having to look at myself in the mirror: I despised what I saw. The constant harassment I was subjected to on a daily basis made me despise pretty much everything about myself. The self-loathing was so strong that the mirror was my worst enemy. When stretch marks started appearing, they made me hate my body even more. Even birthmarks, natural and out of my control, I saw as mistakes that would make it impossible for somebody else to ever truly love me. Going to the beach and seeing all those people taking their shirts off and showing off their bodies without a care in the world was some sort of torture. Although those bodies were far from perfect, they were perfect to me because they weren’t my own. In my head, anyone was better than me.
I spent years refusing to try on certain pieces of clothing I wanted to wear, even for a while, for fear of being made fun of. Even smiling in pictures seemed like an offense that people shouldn’t be subjected to. I was hiding in my own shell, refusing to come out and let go of those negative ideas about myself that were being enforced by those around me.
As years went by, I hit some roadblocks along the way and realized something. In the summer of 2013, I fell into a nasty depression that made me lose a ton of weight. Even though I had lost a significant amount of weight, ironically even ending up underweight at one point, my mind kept recreating the constant criticism and loathing I had been a victim of throughout my school years. Later, I started being criticized for being too skinny. People started spreading rumors that I was sick and other things that aren’t worth repeating. In society, “fat” is seen as unhealthy, or even gross, and skinny is seen as being sick. It hit me, then, that I couldn’t live my life trying to please everyone, going out of my way trying to fit into their standards. People are always going to try to tear you down, but it’s up to you whether or not you give them the power to destroy you. I learned to love every inch of my body because even with all of its imperfections, it’s still a part of my identity.
Â
Slowly, I started developing a sense of self-confidence that transferred into other parts of my life. I finally dared to express my opinion on pressing issues because I learned that I matter, my body matters, and my voice matters. The perfect body doesn’t exist, and being overweight is not a sign of ugliness. I’ve learned to accept myself and not see my body’s imperfections with hatred and disdain. They’re not signs of imperfection, they’re the scars of my struggles and victories.
I realized I don’t have to accommodate others at the expense of my self-love. As long as you’re happy, healthy, and comfortable, pay no attention to the unsolicited opinions of others. I am NOT the problem. You are NOT the problem. If we are not the problem, why should we be the ones paying the price?
Â