Chained to inferiority [ Part 1]
My childhood chained me to feelings of inferiority and I refuse to go back to that fat, unattractive body size!
It kept me behind, people mocked me...and I, “a pathetic excuse for a 12 year old” remained silent. I allowed everyone to tarnish my confidence. Guess it was never there to begin with...but I’d be damned if ever had to look in the mirror to see that old reflection of myself again. No one deserves to have felt like that!
Nothing could compensate the lonely life lead by a girl trapped in an abyss of negative emotions. I was in dire need of help and couldn’t lean on anyone’s support because;
a) I was either too shy to approach anyone for help or
b) Everyone was too busy addressing their own personal issues than listen mine.
I was a fragile egg with cracks on it that nobody cared to notice.
I’ve worked to hard trying to erase the pain experienced in my past!
I WOULD BE DAMNED IF I RETURND TO THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A TWELVE YEAR OLD.
An intelligent, confident and outspoken girl transformed into a shy, body conscious and insecure one. Not a day had passed without me thinking of myself as a fat and ugly person. People called me names and I would hide my face thinking it would all go away. The teasing worsened everyday and I slowly started grooming myself into an extreme introvert to avoid communicating with people, including my family.
I always loved January the 13th; it marked the beginning of my primary school academic year. As a scholy, I was always eager to return to school. The excitement of it all lied in sharing holiday experiences with my best buddies. We had progressed to grade six and starting this grade meant more focus on books, which I loved. Books equipped me with knowledge that my brain was always ready to absorb.
January the 13th 2001 was the total opposite for me. Aged twelve, I had already worn a 42 sized jeans. I weighed 150 kilograms and hated my body completely!!!! I couldn’t understand why all of this was happening to me.
One summer I wore kiddy sized clothing and the next, I suddenly had to start looking for clothes in the plus sized female section of the clothing store.
As I walked through the school gates everyone made it their obligation to let me know how I was fat. To me it was an obvious problem, just never thought that my school mates would single me out and make what was already known to me, worse.
The bathroom became my place of refuge as I would hide in there to avoid the teasing during our lunch break. I desperately wanted bullies to forget that I existed for half an hour or so. Once I actually attempted on having my lunch on a bench under a tree but was told “ Stop eating fatty, you’ll explode!” I recall everybody bursting out in laughter… and me, running back to the bathrooms to console myself as tears streamed down my cheeks. The following day of school was the same, it felt like I was trapped in episodes of déjà vu happening again...and again…and again…
We would all get to school in the morning, have an hour’s lesson and go off to change into practical clothes. I dreaded athletic season. Due to what happened to me the previous day, I convinced myself into not taking extra clothes to school. I always wore a tunic with a sweater no matter how scorching hot the sun was. It hid my huge stomach that fought to fit into my tunic but Mrs. Daisy (a florescent bubbly teacher) had caught on, and instructed me to take it off immediately. The more she complained about how hot it was to be wearing a sweater, the more I hesitated in taking it off. I was the only one in class who wore one but pretended that she hadn’t spoken to me, irrespective of the fact that she mentioned my name. Aggravated by what I did, she asked to have a word with me and I patiently waited for everyone to leave the room so that we could have “a private chat.”
My heart was racing … this was the first time I blatantly ignored Mrs. Daisy’s instruction.
In my heart I felt I had a good reason for not obliging to what she instructed me to do BUT in reality there was no excuse to be so rude , ignoring a teacher who was clearly talking to me. She slowly started walking towards me and said: “I have noticed that you always wear that sweater and I think I know why.” My eyes became teary. “Your weight, that’s what’s bothering you.” I slowly began nodding my head in agreement and Mrs. Daisy gave me a comforting smile. “Don’t be ashamed of your body,” she continued and gave me a pep-talk about body confidence.
It all went into one ear and out the other. How could she possibly understand? She wasn’t with me everywhere I went.
For those of you who were wondering, I am Candice Africa, a 12 year old colored girl raised by a single parent. I am a nerd but hate receiving attention for my intelligence. I’d always have all the right answers for questions in class but would be too afraid to raise my hand. This habit enabled me to fade me into the background even though I was on the class register. It was as if I never existed and I sort of liked being invisible.
It kept me behind, people mocked me...and I, “a pathetic excuse for a 12 year old” remained silent. I allowed everyone to tarnish my confidence. Guess it was never there to begin with...but I’d be damned if ever had to look in the mirror to see that old reflection of myself again. No one deserves to have felt like that!
Nothing could compensate the lonely life lead by a girl trapped in an abyss of negative emotions. I was in dire need of help and couldn’t lean on anyone’s support because;
a) I was either too shy to approach anyone for help or
b) Everyone was too busy addressing their own personal issues than listen mine.
I was a fragile egg with cracks on it that nobody cared to notice.
I’ve worked to hard trying to erase the pain experienced in my past!
I WOULD BE DAMNED IF I RETURND TO THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A TWELVE YEAR OLD.
An intelligent, confident and outspoken girl transformed into a shy, body conscious and insecure one. Not a day had passed without me thinking of myself as a fat and ugly person. People called me names and I would hide my face thinking it would all go away. The teasing worsened everyday and I slowly started grooming myself into an extreme introvert to avoid communicating with people, including my family.
I always loved January the 13th; it marked the beginning of my primary school academic year. As a scholy, I was always eager to return to school. The excitement of it all lied in sharing holiday experiences with my best buddies. We had progressed to grade six and starting this grade meant more focus on books, which I loved. Books equipped me with knowledge that my brain was always ready to absorb.
January the 13th 2001 was the total opposite for me. Aged twelve, I had already worn a 42 sized jeans. I weighed 150 kilograms and hated my body completely!!!! I couldn’t understand why all of this was happening to me.
One summer I wore kiddy sized clothing and the next, I suddenly had to start looking for clothes in the plus sized female section of the clothing store.
As I walked through the school gates everyone made it their obligation to let me know how I was fat. To me it was an obvious problem, just never thought that my school mates would single me out and make what was already known to me, worse.
The bathroom became my place of refuge as I would hide in there to avoid the teasing during our lunch break. I desperately wanted bullies to forget that I existed for half an hour or so. Once I actually attempted on having my lunch on a bench under a tree but was told “ Stop eating fatty, you’ll explode!” I recall everybody bursting out in laughter… and me, running back to the bathrooms to console myself as tears streamed down my cheeks. The following day of school was the same, it felt like I was trapped in episodes of déjà vu happening again...and again…and again…
We would all get to school in the morning, have an hour’s lesson and go off to change into practical clothes. I dreaded athletic season. Due to what happened to me the previous day, I convinced myself into not taking extra clothes to school. I always wore a tunic with a sweater no matter how scorching hot the sun was. It hid my huge stomach that fought to fit into my tunic but Mrs. Daisy (a florescent bubbly teacher) had caught on, and instructed me to take it off immediately. The more she complained about how hot it was to be wearing a sweater, the more I hesitated in taking it off. I was the only one in class who wore one but pretended that she hadn’t spoken to me, irrespective of the fact that she mentioned my name. Aggravated by what I did, she asked to have a word with me and I patiently waited for everyone to leave the room so that we could have “a private chat.”
My heart was racing … this was the first time I blatantly ignored Mrs. Daisy’s instruction.
In my heart I felt I had a good reason for not obliging to what she instructed me to do BUT in reality there was no excuse to be so rude , ignoring a teacher who was clearly talking to me. She slowly started walking towards me and said: “I have noticed that you always wear that sweater and I think I know why.” My eyes became teary. “Your weight, that’s what’s bothering you.” I slowly began nodding my head in agreement and Mrs. Daisy gave me a comforting smile. “Don’t be ashamed of your body,” she continued and gave me a pep-talk about body confidence.
It all went into one ear and out the other. How could she possibly understand? She wasn’t with me everywhere I went.
For those of you who were wondering, I am Candice Africa, a 12 year old colored girl raised by a single parent. I am a nerd but hate receiving attention for my intelligence. I’d always have all the right answers for questions in class but would be too afraid to raise my hand. This habit enabled me to fade me into the background even though I was on the class register. It was as if I never existed and I sort of liked being invisible.
Comments
Post a Comment
Any thoughts? Lets engage in conversation regarding this post :)