These words, although said in a very light tone, were routinely said by my mother. This sentence always targeted my self-esteem, from childhood until adulthood. So much so that it has been engraved upon me. It has always been, and will be, a part of me. I have always felt myself scanning the room and answer myself in either a disappointing “yes” or a relieving “no”.
When I was growing up, my weight always found its way into discussions. I was always the main concern during family gatherings:
“You should watch what you eat”
“Have you tried this diet?”
“Be careful, you won’t be able to find a boyfriend/husband if you keep looking the way you do”
Brutal as these words may seem, my family saw them as words of advice. Harsh criticisms were a way to let someone know about their shortcomings. In their own way, they did try to look out for me, offering me tips to lead a healthier -i.e. thinner- lifestyle. Telling me I should exercise more and eat less. Although the topic wasn’t addressed in the most delicate manner, they wanted me to have a good future, and the quality of your future is correlated with how good you look.
Knowing this, could I blame them for acting this way? We live in a world where a woman’s worth is based on her appearance and sex appeal. Vietnamese culture just happens to be more transparent about it.
Like any culture, Vietnam has its own idea of beauty, which ultimately emphasizes on how well a woman can bear children as well as her own socioeconomic status. Small waists, big breasts, long legs, fair skin... each detail is scrutinized. Combine those ideals to to a culture where people are exceedingly competitive, you get one hell of a mix of insecure girls constantly comparing themselves to their peers, hoping they would be deemed the best “candidate” everywhere they go.
Growing up in Canada, I tried my best to embrace my own body, yet I couldn't help but compare it to other Asians around me. I wasn't as lean nor petite as my Asian friends or relatives, so I did the best I could to mould myself to be like them. I would spend countless hours at the gym, find workout routines, and make attempts to eat more healthily. I tried everything I could think of, but nothing worked. I didn’t have the means to get a personal trainer, I couldn’t afford to spend my days at the gym and buy foods at an astronomical cost. I had multiple jobs, bills to pay, and school to finish. Rock hard abs, toned arms, and perfectly balanced meals were unrealistic luxuries. I didn’t have time nor the money for it. They were out of my reach. These things were not meant for people like me.
And so, every year I gained weight. It was just something I accepted and I slowly gave up.
I guess a part of me hated myself for the way I looked. I guess that I convinced myself that no one would ever be attracted to me for my “outer beauty”. As a result, I tried compensating for it in terms of personality, my “inner beauty”. I tried being the best person I could be: assertive, compassionate, generous, positive... Surely, one day, someone would notice, right? If that person really loved me, they wouldn’t care about how I looked, but for me, myself... right?
When I was growing up, my weight always found its way into discussions. I was always the main concern during family gatherings:
“You should watch what you eat”
“Have you tried this diet?”
“Be careful, you won’t be able to find a boyfriend/husband if you keep looking the way you do”
Brutal as these words may seem, my family saw them as words of advice. Harsh criticisms were a way to let someone know about their shortcomings. In their own way, they did try to look out for me, offering me tips to lead a healthier -i.e. thinner- lifestyle. Telling me I should exercise more and eat less. Although the topic wasn’t addressed in the most delicate manner, they wanted me to have a good future, and the quality of your future is correlated with how good you look.
Knowing this, could I blame them for acting this way? We live in a world where a woman’s worth is based on her appearance and sex appeal. Vietnamese culture just happens to be more transparent about it.
Like any culture, Vietnam has its own idea of beauty, which ultimately emphasizes on how well a woman can bear children as well as her own socioeconomic status. Small waists, big breasts, long legs, fair skin... each detail is scrutinized. Combine those ideals to to a culture where people are exceedingly competitive, you get one hell of a mix of insecure girls constantly comparing themselves to their peers, hoping they would be deemed the best “candidate” everywhere they go.
Growing up in Canada, I tried my best to embrace my own body, yet I couldn't help but compare it to other Asians around me. I wasn't as lean nor petite as my Asian friends or relatives, so I did the best I could to mould myself to be like them. I would spend countless hours at the gym, find workout routines, and make attempts to eat more healthily. I tried everything I could think of, but nothing worked. I didn’t have the means to get a personal trainer, I couldn’t afford to spend my days at the gym and buy foods at an astronomical cost. I had multiple jobs, bills to pay, and school to finish. Rock hard abs, toned arms, and perfectly balanced meals were unrealistic luxuries. I didn’t have time nor the money for it. They were out of my reach. These things were not meant for people like me.
And so, every year I gained weight. It was just something I accepted and I slowly gave up.
I guess a part of me hated myself for the way I looked. I guess that I convinced myself that no one would ever be attracted to me for my “outer beauty”. As a result, I tried compensating for it in terms of personality, my “inner beauty”. I tried being the best person I could be: assertive, compassionate, generous, positive... Surely, one day, someone would notice, right? If that person really loved me, they wouldn’t care about how I looked, but for me, myself... right?
Last year, I was at my heaviest, having gained about 7kg (15lbs) in one single year. I must admit, I wasn’t at my best: I was incredibly stressed, lacked sleep, and did not care about what I ate. I was in terrible shape, both mentally and physically. My self-esteem hit rock bottom.
At some point, I had a wake up call: I wanted to get better. I had to. So, I pulled myself together. When I came back to Taiwan for another year, I decided to get a gym membership and take better care of myself. I wanted to be healthy again.
And so, my journey began.
I went to the gym more regularly and changed my diet. My brother suggested the Paleo Diet and I was surprised by how effective it was. The number on the scale was dropping at a steady pace. It was so motivating, encouraging. Something was finally working for me. It kept me going.
Of course, this being reality, I hit a few bumps along the way.
After a few months, I hit a plateau and realised I was experiencing early symptoms of overtraining. I felt unmotivated and disconnected from the environment and people around me. The number on the scale was not dropping as quickly and I felt exhausted. I told my friend about it. She told me I should just take a break for a week and take it easy. It wasn’t normal that I was waiting for my favourite dance class to end. So, I listened to her and changed up my routine.
Later on, I started focusing on the process rather than the results. I was happier, more eager to go the gym, attend dance classes and push my limits. I set weekly goals for myself and was elated to see regular progress. I even rewarded myself with occasional cheat days.
I saw the progress in my body: I was getting lighter, firmer and, for the first time, realizing that the body I always wanted might be attainable. Perhaps I could even fit into the ideal Asian standard of beauty. Maybe I could actually get my family’s stamp of approval and maybe, just maybe, I would actually feel and see myself as beautiful.
My increase in self-esteem was manifested through different ways. I was more confident in myself overall, professionally and romantically. I was more assertive at work and wanted to be a positive role model for my students. I knew my self-worth and was getting better at filtering the men I go on dates with. I started being happier, loving life and being more joyful. I started being more comfortable in my own skin, loving myself for who I am.
Eventually, I decided to test how confident I was in my own body. I decided to buy a bikini. As trivial and insignificant as it may seem, it was a big step for me. I was full of insecurities: my stomach wasn’t flat enough, my waist is too big, I didn’t have an hourglass figure, etc. I was going on vacation and I needed a new swimsuit since the ones I had no longer fit me. So, I challenged myself to buy a bikini.
And then, one day, I did it.
I guess I would break down this experience into four steps.
1- buy a bikini
2- step out in that bikini
3- be confident in that bikini
4- have fun in that bikini
The process was pretty simple.
I went to a store. I found a bikini. I went to the changing room. I put it on. I looked at myself in the mirror.
It felt... good. I was surprised by it. It suited me. It fit me. I looked good. I bought it.
First step: check. That was easy.
The next step for me was to actually wear it in public. Now, it would be dishonest of me if I said I was super confident and rocked it at my first pool party. I bought a light cover-up in case I chickened out and needed to head back to security- i.e. hide my body. I was hesitant to step out in it. I was self-conscious and wondered if the others were judging me for wearing a bikini. Was I showing too much? Did I have the right body for it? I stepped out in my bikini and felt uncomfortable for a good 15-20 mins in. I felt so naked.
Second step: check. It was somewhat easy.
However, afterwards, I started flaunting my body. I had nice curves, didn’t I? I had super nice and toned legs. I might as well show off my badass tattoo too. I was still self-conscious about my body, but I tried my best to have fun by having a different mindset.
Third step: check. It was surprisingly easy.
As the night went on, I was proud of myself. I hit that milestone and convinced myself that I could pull off wearing a bikini. I had fun and forgot, for just a moment, what I was wearing and was focused on being in the present moment. I didn’t care if people were looking at me. I was there for me.
Fourth step: check. It was ridiculously easy.
How was my first time wearing a bikini? It was with confidence, success, and most of all, fun.
Overall, my journey was not only about weight loss, but me actually believing in myself. Sure, losing a considerable amount of weight and getting more fit did wonders in my life: I looked and felt better about myself, and was finally able to buy cute clothes I always wanted to wear. However, doing all of this showed me I had more control over my life than I thought. My weight was always something I considered to be out of that realm.
However, as great as it felt, I was surprised with myself. I was not impressed by me finally being able to wear a bikini, but by how much I’ve learned in the process.
I learned to have a better relationship with food. I used to overeat rather than listen to my body. I used to look for quantity rather than quality. I used to look for convenience rather than freshness. Now, I look at food as fuel to my body, and my body as a sacred instrument.
I learned how to set proper goals for myself. I weighed myself every week and made sure I met the goal with portion control, nutritious food, exercise and calorie counting. I just had be more aware of what I consumed and how I spent that energy.
I learned how commitment and discipline can do wonders. It was basically all mental. There were times where I wanted to eat chicken nuggets in the middle of the night. There were times where I just wanted to stay home and not workout. There were times where I was just tired and wanted to give up. In those times, I reminded myself of my goals and researched how to deal with those conflicts. They were simply problems and I needed to find ways to solve them. It was that simple.
“You were probably the chubbiest one there, weren’t you?”
To this day, these words still pop up whenever I enter a room. I still subconsciously scan the room and see if I am the best “candidate”. However, whenever I answer “yes” or “no”, I feel neither disappointment nor relief, but indifference. I still need to work on my self-esteem, but I know my own self worth. I love myself for who I am and no longer feel ashamed of the way I look. And, most importantly, I also know that one day, when that special someone will love me, it will be for who I am, not for how I look. He will say that I'm beautiful, and I will believe it, too.
Till then,
 |
| ArtScience Museum, Singapore |
PS: Body image and self-acceptance is a very heavy and important topic for me. We often talk about anorexia and bulimia, but we have yet to inform ourselves about Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD). Click here to learn more about it.
