I don’t think anyone grows up understanding what it means to be a “fat kid”. At least I didn’t. I don’t remember looking in the mirror as a child and thinking I was overweight or ugly. I just saw myself!

My earliest memory of realizing something was different dates back to kindergarten. I had this beautiful long red dress for my moving-up ceremony. I loved that dress, I felt like a princess every time I saw it. I remember begging my mother to let me try it on and wear it before the ceremony because I was too excited. I was going to be just like the princess I adored. 

Then she zipped it up. Halfway. The zipper stopped. She pulled, but nothing. My mom was confused as to why it didn’t fit anymore. Luckily, the dress came with a matching cardigan that was long enough to cover the zipper, so no one could notice. 

I barely understood the concept. 

Growing up, my family was actually really active. Every summer, my mom refused to let you sit inside. She found every free activity imaginable. 

Swimming lessons. 

Bike Rides

Museums

Parks

Libarary

Community events 

The swimming lessons were almost 40 mins away by bus. Most people would’ve taken the bus. Not my mom. She made my siblings and me ride our bikes there. There was one big hill, and it was so steep that I hated it. 

At the end of every summer, we were exhausted, sunburnt, but we all had fun. We were very active kids. Which is why understanding my weight as a kid never made sense. 

The first person who ever told me something was wrong wasn’t another kid. It was my doctor. I was in the fourth grade, I remember sitting in their office as he looked over my chart, saying, ” You are considered obese.” 

Obese. 

Such a heavy girl for 10-year-old me. I don’t remember much after, but I was embarrassed. 

The funny thing is, food was unrestricted in my house. My mom cooked every meal 6 days of the week. Breakfast and Dinner. Fast food was a Sunday treat. We weren’t kids who begged for McDonald’s or any fast food. Honestly, I got sick more than anything. 

Chips? I’d throw it up. 

Too much chocolate? Throw it up. 

Pizza. Throw up. 

Even now, there are foods I can’t eat because I made myself so sick from eating too much as a kid; my body still shudders at the idea of it. 

Looking back. I think my biggest problem wasn’t that I ate unhealthy; it was that I couldn’t stop eating. I always wanted more. 

Even after I was full, I didn’t understand portions. I just loved food.

Fourth grade became another reminder. Our school had a ballroom dance performance. Every dress I owned was too tight. Every single one. My mom eventually pulled out one of my older sister’s dresses. Even then, they barely fit. 

The sleeves squeezed my arms so tightly I had to put on a cardigan over them. Again, I didn’t think, oh, I’m overweight, or nothing fits, just something inconvenient. 

Later that winter, my family decided to weigh ourselves. Worse idea in my opinion. A couple of months back, I weighed 95 pounds. Now. I was 110. I cried. I remember crying, and my mom handed me M&M’s to comfort me. 

BEFORE any of you misunderstand, my mom wasn’t encouraging unhealthy eating. She spent my childhood cooking healthy meals, not indulging in unhealthy habits; she limited junk food and told me to not overeat. The problem wasn’t her. It was me. 

I overate. I ignored being full. I loved eating. 

Looking back now, I think I was probably binge eating long before I even knew what binge eating was. 

But middle school. Middle school was when everything changed. We had moved. New neighborhood, new school, new classmates. Unfamiliarity. 

I was so scared. On the first day of 6th grade, I tried hard to look decent. I loved headbands. Colorful ones, sparkly ones. I even worse feather hair extensions because Selena Gomez wore them once. I wanted to look cool. I wanted to be liked even just a little. 

Then one day, while sitting with two boys before class, one of them looked at me and asked, “Can I ask you something?” I said yes. Then he asked. “Why are you so fat?” I still remember those words. Word for word. I remember the silence right after. The other boy telling him he shouldn’t have asked that. 

And me. I said absolutely nothing. I never told my mom. I never told my friends. I just quietly asked my teacher if I could move to another table. I told everyone I just wanted to sit with my friends. The truth was I just didnt want to be near him. 

After that, everything about me changed. I stopped wearing colorful headbands. I asked my mom for oversized blue uniform shirts instead of the fitted white ones. I wanted bigger, baggier pants. I tied my sweater around my waist every single day. I sucked in my stomach whenever I walked. 

Middle school boys talked about girls constantly. Who was pretty? Who wasn’t. Who had curves, who was too fat. Even though it wasn’t directed at me, it felt like it. 

Gym class made it worse. Every year, we had fitness testing. And every year they weighed us. I didn’t mind the running, push-ups, sit-ups, none of that bothered me. It was the scale. One day, a group of girls started telling each other their weights. Then it became my turn. 

I stepped on. 145 pounds. I immediately tried to laugh it off. “It’s because of my hoodie”. I knew I was lying. They probably knew I was lying, too. I went home feeling embarrassed all over again. 

By then. I had completely hidden myself. Outside of school, I wore oversized clothing, dark clothes, and baggy hoodies, nothing feminine. No dresses, no skirts, no bright colors. 

Shopping for clothes when you’re an overweight young teen is miserable. Everything cute seems to stop at your size. Everything left feels meant for someone much older. So instead I stopped trying. 

Around the same time, I discovered K-pop. And with K-pop came impossible beauty standards. Perfect skin. Tiny waist. Thin legs. Perfect everything. One idol I admired was IU. 

She was known everywhere for being incredibly petite. Then one day, I found the diet she spoke about openly. 

• A banana for breakfast 
• A sweet potato for lunch 
• A protein shake or boiled eggs for dinner. 

Young me thought.. If she looks like that, maybe this is how you lose weight. So I tried it. One day. That’s all I lasted. I felt dizzy and sick. I couldn’t even think straight. 

Now, as an adult, I understand what I didn’t know back then. Many idols weren’t promoting healthy lifestyles. They often talk about diets rooted in impossible beauty standards and disordered eating. 

But when you’re thirteen, you don’t know that. You just want to be pretty. Looking back now, I don’t know why I hid so much. People convinced me that it wasn’t nice enough. That is just one part of my story. Consider this part one because it doesn’t end here.