When I was younger I struggled with my body image, like many children and preteens do as they are growing up. I always considered myself a little on the heavy side, even though I probably would have been considered normal weight, but this image in my head was fueled by comments made by my immigrant family regarding what I ate, how much I exercised, and what I looked like. In my family, being skinny and fit was an ideal body type, and my family, especially my grandmother, would always talk about how important it was to be healthy and fit.
My sense of body dysmorphia was especially heightened in middle school for several reasons. The main reason was that I was an identical twin and it was during this time period that we started looking very different from one another. I had always been a few pounds heavier than her since we were born, but during middle school, my sister lost a lot of weight and became extremely skinny and gaunt, while I still looked the way I always had. Her dramatic weight loss was a major cause of concern in my family, and it also had a major effect on my self-identity.
People would use our weights and physical appearances to tell us apart because it was easier than trying to tell us apart by our names or faces. Being an identical twin, I had been craving my own identity for so long, but this was not how I wanted to be differentiated from my sister. The more weight she lost, the larger I seemed compared to her, and overall I felt so large and out of place when we stood next to each other. My family noticed, and while trying to get her to gain weight, they also tried to get me to lose weight. Looking back, I think they just wanted her to be healthy and they believed getting us to look alike again was a good way to do that. I don't think they knew that their comments and mannerisms to try to get me to lose weight had such a profound impact on the way I saw myself and the way I believed others saw me. I vividly remember being called "chunky" and being told to exercise; these were things I had always thought about myself, but they were now amplified because I was hearing it from other people. In school, I would restrict what I ate and would be so self-conscious about how I looked and how I thought I looked to other people. I literally felt as if the word "fat" was tattooed on my forehead. No matter what I did though, no diet or amount of exercise really worked and I continued to look the same, shedding countless tears alone after meals hating the way I felt and looked. I felt guilty when I ate and when I wasn't exercising, and it ate me up inside.
Eventually, my sister gained most of the weight back and I lost my baby fat, but the damage was done and I still felt an extreme sense of body dysmorphia in highschool. Furthermore, our physical appearances became a permanent method of differentiation for others, including our relatives and friends. I accepted that I would always be a little heavier than her, and rather than pushing this fact away, I began to tell people as soon as I met them that this was a way they could tell us apart. I wouldn't say that I am necessarily happy with the way I look now, but I'm not obsessed with my weight and changing my physical appearance like I was before, which is such a relief, and I like not having to worry about it.
I can't go back in time and change what happened, but I do wish that I could tell my younger self that it was ok to look the way I did and that no matter what others tell me, I should be the only one in charge of how I feel about my body. I think this is an important message that many people take for granted, especially children, but it is something that everyone should think about.