I remember wearing my first pair of denim shorts when I was in the fifth grade. It so happened that I grew up liking it and did not want to wear any other. Then came a blow that not only caused despair but marked the beginning of trolls that had remained un-confronted, for years. It was in the 8th grade when a teacher pointed out that I had gained weight. The class was teeming with students and some nodded in the affirmative. I did, too. Thus began, my journey of battling body-shaming.
It was in the 8th grade when a teacher pointed out that I had gained weight. The class was teeming with students and some nodded in the affirmative. I did, too.
As my age progressed, the need for a bigger pair of pants, seemed essential. From Medium, to Large, it felt unseemly for a young girl to fit herself into bigger pants when the Kids’ Section catered to girls till 15. I was already in the women’s section, by the time I was thirteen. While I now realise that the harsh “beauty standards” make adult women feel dysmorphic, too, I was too young to grasp the reason, boys of my age, made sly remarks, every time I wore shorts to my tuition classes.
I overheard parents, who pandered to their wards, whispering about the length of my pants but never hesitating to ask for my English notes. I’ve always imagined myself as a decent student but scoring well on my mock tests had become quintessential to “kill ’em“ not with kindness, but test scores. I was fifteen, I shouldn’t have had to strategise to feel comfortable in my own body.
My self-esteem continued to plummet when I switched schools in the eleventh grade and I began to over-eat as a mechanism for coping with the recent transition. As a result of the change in my eating habits and a lack of physical activity, my weight reached the highest it had ever been. Coupled with medicine for depression and anxiety, my day-to-day activities included sleeping, eating, and binging on sitcoms. My academics took a toll, as well. This went on for the next two years. I took my board examinations by forcing myself out of a slump and ended up getting a decent grade and a great university.
My first stint with adulthood: my shorts and judgement
My time at Jadavpur University was starkly different from my time in school. While the university was at the forefront of student resistance, my classmates offered their resistance towards my sartorial choices (read: shorts), rather than the growing right-wing influence. Since they had to maintain a reputation of their own, men discussed it amongst themselves, but it had somehow reached my ears. Their (non)attempt at being woke, had me questioning the very essence of a neo-liberal education system.
While the resistance was not limited to the men’s group, it hurt to hear from my fellow women. My shorts had become controversial since a plus-sized woman ought to cover up (as was thought by a fellow classmate and her family).
While the resistance was not limited to the men’s group, it hurt to hear from my fellow women. My shorts had become controversial since a plus-sized woman ought to cover up (as was thought by a fellow classmate and her family). It was only when Covid hit, and we were locked up in our homes, when I started to realise the need to ‘work-out’ for myself. Not for others, but for myself. As over-consumption would have it, Instagram reels had made their way, and I stumbled upon Jessi and Jackson Wang. The duo had a viral video that reached my feed and I began tapping my feet to his tunes!
At that very point, I picked up a choreography to his song and thus began my weight-loss journey. As time passed, the influence of Korean-pop pushed me towards changing my wardrobe and finally attuning myself to a “presentation” that “I” liked looking at, in the mirror. Starting to incline towards the male idols, I realised my attraction towards them stemmed from the need to “look like them”. From oversized clothes, to baggy pants, I searched through multiple websites to layer clothes, just like them.
Acceptance and admiration
What worried me were not the compliments that I had been receiving since 2021 but at the lack of them, during the earlier years. As I stumble upon my old pictures on social media sites, I reel at the comments that are still on the public “forum”. A comment by an acquaintance from school compared my ‘fat thighs’ to my brain, which supposedly, was equally fat, hinting towards, being an idiot.
I could never fathom their hatred towards by body. I still pretend to laugh at my friend’s mom’s, apparent joke, that never landed. Her obligation to bring up my shorts and the figure that accompanied it, in hushed tones, during my Masters’ convocation made me realise that however hard I try, I would never be able to clear their heads off my earlier image, which I no longer relate to, but am very proud of. It has taken me over five years to be at peace with my younger self but the moment I gloat about fitting into a 26-waisted shorts, reminds me of the time I had to control my cravings to lose a pound.
I do not intend to curb my cravings anymore, but will continue to try to fit into clothes, and not the other way round. I wish the ordeals were easy to forget. They aren’t.
