If only you understood the depths of my desire to be thin. The battle I faced while trying to mask my obsession with achieving perfection. The harsh inner dialogues that plagued me, which sometimes still echo today. I spent countless hours scrutinizing photoshopped images in magazines, yearning to attain the unattainable beauty they portrayed. These were the ideal figures I longed for, despite knowing they were illusions.
In 2006, at the age of twenty-seven, I found myself at my lowest weight, living far from home. Strangely enough, I felt happier about my appearance than ever before. My boyfriend, now my husband, had only known me for seven months, and I was determined not to reveal the truth behind my façade. The reality was that I was not naturally this thin; I was an average-sized woman, with curves that I was unwilling to embrace.
My body felt like a vessel that needed to be perfect. It wasn’t straight and sleek but rather had the bumps and curves of rolling hills. I believed it needed to be smaller, skinnier, prettier.
The desire to be thin had been a lifelong obsession. My thoughts were often consumed by self-criticism. “If only my ribcage weren’t so prominent,” “If only my hips were narrower,” or “If only my rear was smaller.” During puberty, I wished I could revert back to my pre-teen body, hoping that someone would grant my desires if I pushed hard enough against my hips.
My struggles with self-worth were deeply intertwined with my weight. My identity was defined by how thin I could become. Each time I noticed a rib protruding or measured my arms, I felt a misplaced sense of pride. I was becoming as skinny as possible, and it filled me with a bittersweet joy. However, my soul was in pain, yearning for nourishment and peace.
Eventually, I began to regain weight and felt punished for my past choices. I didn’t feel worthy of the body I truly desired. Thankfully, with the support of friends and family, my body gradually returned to its natural state.
But this journey is ongoing. Those critical thoughts still linger, like an unwelcome shadow that occasionally reappears. There are both good days and challenging days. The difference now is that I have gained perspective and awareness. I am stronger than the body dysmorphia that once consumed me. I am resilient against my disordered eating habits. I’ve discovered a strength within myself that I never recognized before. And most importantly, I now see that I am beautiful just as I am.
This article was originally published on March 7, 2021.
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