The fitness test in elementary school gave me so much dread. Walking downstairs, the dimly lit door to the gym always reminded me of a horror movie.  Hated it. Seeing that paper every semester “overweight” made me so confused. “Am I really that heavy?” 

“Mommy look what the gym teacher gave me”

 We were never allowed to open it ourselves. Little 8 year old me would watch her face morph from curious to annoyance. 

“Don’t give me this again. This paper is only made to make you feel bad about yourself.” 

 Not aware of beauty standards I was completely sure nothing was wrong with me. How do you expect a child to understand a paper that says they are overweight? Especially since I got more exercise than the girls that were skinny at my school, yet I still weighed more. Everyday, 2+ hours a day I exercised. On the playground during recess we would play kick ball, all I did for 30+ minutes was run around and play with my friends. Me being faster than most girls my age, and stronger than most. I did not have a bulging belly, nor did I have anything excess on my body compared to others. So what did they mean I’m overweight?

Not knowing I was chubby, the comments and comparisons from people that I thought were my friends made me very confused and sad. The most notable situation was when I was at an all stars tournament during 5th grade, which for us was a cheer/basketball competition. My friends and I were sitting on the sidelines while cheerleaders from other schools cheered for their basketball teams. There was a girl that was noticeably larger than the rest of the girls on her team. My “friends” turned to each other and started laughing. While I continued to watch the game, they turned to me and said 

“Angie, is that your twin?” 

From then on I avoided them. 

6th-7th grade I grew much more self conscious and insecure. Coming to the realization that I did not look like other girls, I didn’t dress like them, and I didn’t seek to attract like the girls in my middle school did. I was chubby, didn’t know who I wanted to be, and didn’t want to be them. Years and years of being lost, wondering what I WANTED to present myself as really damages a kid’s self esteem. This inability to figure out what I wanted to look like, while only knowing I was just fat made me develop horrible habits. Isolation being one of them.

In middle school I was the only black girl in my entire grade for 3 years straight. Being a fat black girl in a class of twig asian girls, who were the “beauty standard” made me feel so out of place. Forget that school. I had many many “friends” during this time but none of them knew the true me. None of them truly wanted to be my friend when I was so insecure with my weight that I wore hoodies in 90 degree weather because I hated my body. These “friends” never knew about the days I cried about being “ugly”, these “friends” never knew about the days I wouldn’t eat because I hated my body so much.

In 7th grade I reached a max weight of 177. Imagine that. 177 as a 12 year old is actually outrageous. My mom and my then best friend's family put me on a track team in order to lose weight. Which I was on for about 2 months before quitting. Girl… that runner's pain was disgusting, but hey man, I lost 20 pounds within those 2 months. As soon as I started losing weight I followed what the girls around me did but barely more modestly. Leggings, with short shirts. Posting pictures of myself in a tank top, cleavage showing. Compliments started poooooouuuuuurrring in suddenly. All those dark nights in my room silently crying about how I looked finally felt worth it.

”Wha- you're so small, unnu look meega ” my grandma used to say often after I lost the weight. Realizing that there really was no way for people to gauge weight besides skinny and fat. Taking note of that, I went on a health journey, continuously doing workouts to get a “snatched waist”… something that should’ve been the last thing on the mind of a 13 year old that listened to xxxtentacion and 6ix9ine more often than I would like to admit. At this point I was around 140, with abs and the body type that I wanted at that age. I was overzealous with my self image, beautiful coarse curly hair, an hourglass figure, and though I am partially bragging here… a very sweet and humble personality (self awareness is key guys).

Quaratine really messed me up. Constantly shoveling food into my mouth simply out of boredom made me go from 140 with abs, to 170 with defined stomach. That may sound good to some of you, but I looked like a brown skin snowman… just round.. 

Though quarantine messed up my body image, it didn’t shake the confidence I had in myself. The continous comments from classmates in middle school calling me fat did not shake my mental whatsoever when I got to school after quarantine and saw these people again. However something that did trigger my insecurities was when my beloved boyfriend would play with my stomach. Never a malicious act on his part, but almost always an insecure reaction from mine.

”why do you hate when I play with your stomach?” a question often asked with a frown.

Maybe my confidence did take a hit? Am I not secure in my beauty? 

This wonderful man and my mother built my confidence as much as they could when I began losing weight again. Always telling me how beautiful my figure is, always complimenting my weight. Now to be honest, I did delude myself into confidence. I had an hourglass figure both whilst skinny and “fat”, which was my ideal body type. THATS what I wanted to be. Someone confident in my body no matter what society thinks because forget societal standards on MY body. People who call me fat don’t buy my food, they don’t cook my meals… so why should their opinion matter? I love myself, and so do the people around me. Which is what matters most to me.