I didn’t like my body very much growing up. I was always the odd one out. Too tall. Too fat. Too whatever. You’d think that being tall is an advantage and everyone wants to be tall. Well, not me – in the past at least. I was always the tallest in class since kindergarten, guys included. It was always going for the biggest shoe sizes and even being the heaviest among the girls.

Being 165cm as a primary six girl and comparing myself to girls who were 10cm shorter, the weight disparity killed me. It reached a point when I started to force myself to throw up whenever I ate anything heavy. Being unable to reject food when offered and having the mentality of finishing up whatever was on my plate made me feel even guiltier. I remember days when I’d scrunch up the rolls on my tummy and just hate my body. It was a horrible time.

Seeing exactly how perfect bodies look like and knowing that you look nothing like it in the mirror. Feeling how your thighs rub against each other whenever you attempt a run or even walk remotely faster. Hearing how others complain about being fat when you are 10kg heavier than them. It all added up to my insecurities.

As I got older, I decided that I was sick of it. Sick of feeling inadequate. Sick of comparing my body to others. Sick of having that acidic taste in my mouth. I decided to snap out of it and focused on things that made me happy. So what if I didn’t have a perfect body? I had friends who love me for who I am inside, a grandmother who’d busy in her kitchen all day just to see the smile on our faces whenever we ate dinner and have a healthy body free of illnesses.

I’m not saying that I’m 100% confident of my body now. On some days, the insecurities would still creep in and I’d feel shitty all over again. But I’m in a much better place than I was years ago.