I have always been more or less fat ever since I was a toddler.
And as if that wasn’t enough to make my life miserable,
I have a very thin fraternal twin sister.

One time, an old lady sat next to me on the tram.
She kept looking at me.
“Are you engaged?” she asked.
“No.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“Excuse me?”

I have dark skin,
And I adore it.
I’m an Egyptian girl of Nubian descent,
But I don’t live in Nubia.
I never get a break from people’s comments:
On the streets, at school, or any place I go.
body image, bullying, racism, beauty standards

Some people at university would compliment my skin tone and ask me,
“How do you get so tan?”
I would tell them that it wasn’t a tan.
It was my skin color.
I thought they were making fun of me,
And that something was wrong with me.

I’ve been subjected to bad things ever since I was a child.
It started with the bullying I’d get at school,
Because of my thin body and dark skin.

“Why isn’t my hair pretty like yours?
Why isn’t it soft like my friends’ hair at school?
Why do I keep screaming whenever my mom fixes it for me?”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

My mom: “Do another protein treatment to straighten your hair, it looked nice on you”
Me: “Protein treatments are harmful, they could lead to skin cancer.”
hair, body image, bullying, beauty standards

I really, really hate how I look.
I have zero self-confidence.
I have issues when it comes to food and eating.
I often don’t have an appetite,
And it shows on my face:
It’s thin and pale,
And my nose is the biggest thing on my face.
I get a lot of horrible comments and looks of pity.

I’m a girl like any other girl,
But unfortunately,
Society doesn’t consider me to be like any other girl,
Because I’m cross eyed.
When someone jokes about it,
Either to me or someone else,
It causes me a lot of pain.
It’s true they’re only joking around,
But it cuts me to the core.

Ever since I was young,
I was told that my hair wasn’t nice.
I’ve been straightening my hair since elementary school.
Everyone around me made fun of me.
They called me “brillo pad.”