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.

My current weight is 70 kg,
And I’m 163 cm tall.
My weight used to be around 58 to 60 kg,
Never any more than that.
Then I went through a very difficult period in my life,
And I was expelled from university.

Both of my parents are dead,
And I live with my older sister.
I have many siblings:
Five sisters and two brothers.
They’re all married and have kids,
Except me.
When I gained weight,
They made me feel self-conscious about the way I looked.

The first time he hit me was the day I found out I was pregnant.
He picked a fight with me when his friend and his wife were having dinner with us,
And I fried the mombar (a kind of sausage dish),
Before the chicken breasts.
He pulled me by my hair,
And dragged me to the stove,
And threatened to set me on fire to get rid of me.

I was brought up to be a doctor.
That’s why I love science.
I became really good at it,
And was famous for being a good student at school.
My parents are regular people.
They didn’t know there were good or bad upbringings.
They didn’t have the best upbringing.
They worked hard to raise us the best way they could.
But it wasn’t always perfect, of course.

Ever since I was little,
I’ve always had “bad” hair.
It truly is bad hair.
It’s not curly.
It’s thin at the front,
And short and frizzy.

I hate my skin.
It’s full of flaws.
My face and back are full of painful pimples.
Dark areas, red areas, holes, and splotches.
I hate how people look at me,
Especially when I’m already feeling low.
Even mama, baba, and my younger siblings,
All look at me with a mixture of disgust and pity on their faces.

I’ve always been chubby.
My family didn’t have a problem with that,
Thank God.
And they never told me that I needed to lose weight.
But when I was young,
Mama didn’t like dressing me in revealing clothing,
So that no one would give me the evil eye.

All my life I’ve been getting comments on my body;
“You’re fat!”
“You look like a door!”
All the time.
That I have to lose weight to be loved or to, at least, be accepted.
body image, bullying

When I was young, my mom used to intentionally fix my hair so that it’d be tightly tied back,
and I’d be safe from peoples’ comments.
For the longest time, I wouldn’t leave the house unless my hair was straightened.
hair, body image, bullying, beauty standards

I have big ears.
That’s not a bad thing!
But I’ve been bullied a lot.
The kind of bullying that made me hate the fact that I have big ears.
I would imagine sometimes going into the bathroom with a pair of scissors and cutting them off.