Someone Called Me Fat Today

I was trying to be confident with myself by posting my pictures on Instagram, hoping it would somehow boost my self-esteem. In the eyes of some people, it would look narcissistic, and I could not blame them.  Okay lang. Somehow taking pictures of myself—as I am quite photogenic, in the words of other people, “Sana picture ka na lang”—is therapy, as if convincing myself that I love my body.

But then someone called me fat today, and everything went downhill. Kaya ayoko na lang magpakita sa mga tao.

I think I blogged this many times before: I have body dysmorphic disorder. For your information, according to Anxiety and Depression Association of America,

People who have body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) think about their real or perceived flaws for hours each day. They can’t control their negative thoughts and don’t believe people who tell them that they look fine. Their thoughts may cause severe emotional distress and interfere with their daily functioning. They may miss work or school, avoid social situations and isolate themselves, even from family and friends, because they fear others will notice their flaws.

I cried for hours, thinking of not eating or bulimia, thinking of spending the money I left for gym. When I had an acne outbreak, I could not fully work well and chose to spend 50% of my salary on derma. Now that my face was back to normal, with a few dark spots left, I was hoping to lose some weight and maybe go to the gym but decided to go for my other priorities first: renovating my room, editing my soon-to-be-published novels, going back to writing Lost and Found. However, someone called me fat today, and I could not just prepare myself to perform.

That’s why I can’t speak of “Love your body” as I myself do not, else I’ll be a hypocrite. Hirap, ‘no? I’m not even sure when this started . . . maybe when someone I liked did not like me back, or maybe when my parents kept on comparing me with women who can afford salads for their meals.

I deactivated everything, except for this as this is my online journal. I’m okay with people reading my anxieties and insecurities; maybe this is my way to share them to people kasi parang di ko na naman kaya lumabas.

Aside from my existential crisis, I have this. No matter how many times I tell “I love you” to myself, it doesn’t work. Akala ko ba repeat until true? Sabagay. People will dismiss this as “Ang daming problema sa mundo, iyan iniisip mo” or “Simple lang yan: wag mo na lang pansinin yung iba.” But I swear, it’s not as simple as they think; if it were, then I should have been fine. Saklap.

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