‘Skinny’

Body image has never been an outright issue for me. Though I’ve always subconsciously wanted them, I haven’t purposefully yearned for a more idealistic body, a flatter tummy or skinny legs. Until, I guess, a couple of years ago.

When I was younger, maybe ages 13-16, I got rather plump. I was fine with that, I never cared when my extended family or friend’s mums commented on my weight. It just never bothered me.

Until, at 17, I lost all that weight and then some. I got extremely skinny (compared to previous standards of my body). I got so skinny that my collarbones jutted out oddly, the crests of my pelvic bones were like mountains protruding between my thighs and my waist. I got so skinny that the pants that once fit me a year ago, I now had to roll up four times over, and even then they would threaten to slip off my body. All my tops became incredibly baggy. I remember at school, teachers would comment on my baggy uniform saying that I’d gotten too skinny.

They’d ask me if I was on a diet. If I was stressed. If I wasn’t eating at all. The last two were true.

I was more anxious than stressed, and I never felt like eating anymore. I never got the psychological sensation that came with being physically hungry. I would eat when it was expected of me, and I would only eat about four bites of the whole meal before I was full. Most of my eating during that time had been either me, or someone else practically force-feeding me. The thought of food made me feel borderline nauseous. It was a nightmare.

But eventually, when I felt better, I started eating more. I never gained all my weight back. Today, I just hover between my ‘normal’; skinny state and my collarbone jutting, pelvic bone protruding state.

However, today is different for me than it was before. Because unlike before, today, I want to be that collarbone jutting, pelvic bones protruding girl. I like it when my wrists are scarily skinny. I like it when I look at my waist and it seems to grow smaller every time. I like it when the ends of my ribcage jump out when I lay on my back.

And in a way, that sickens me. Because every time my wrists don’t look too skinny, I panic and wonder if I’m eating too much. Every time I look at my waist and it’s increased in its width, my mind automatically jumps to the conclusion that I should exercise and control my eating (this happened just last night). I’ve never been able to count my ribs, but it scares me that someday I may.

It’s odd because these were never conscious thoughts in my mind before, but lately (and whenever I put on weight to get to my ‘normal’ skinny state) I wonder if I should be doing something differently.

I’ve never admitted that the too-skinny look that makes my cheeks suck into my face, my ass smaller and my shoulder blades more prominent satisfied me.

In practicality, I’m all for others having a positive body image regardless of their weight, physical abilities or body structure. But that advocacy of being healthy doesn’t extend to myself, I realise.

So here’s another thing I should be working on: Not being my collarbone jutting, pelvic bone protruding state; not being my ‘normal’ skinny state. But instead being whatever size my body wants to be while I keep myself physically, mentally and emotionally healthy.

And that’s something I’m still coming to terms with.