Body image, a personal account

There is the saying that goes, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." It is expected that standards of beauty differ among individuals and cultures, and something that is beautiful to one may not be the case for the other. Though, regardless of what it looks like, the concept of beauty is one that cannot be ignored in the life of a female. The way I see it, standards of beauty are crucial when it comes to building a woman's self esteem from her earliest years.

When I was a very young kid growing up in England, I was taller than most kids of my age. I didn't think too much of it; I just liked being at the back of the line when lined up in order of height. The only time it annoyed me was when I couldn't get into the IKEA ball pit because I was too tall, despite that I was right in the recommended age range. And of course, I didn't know of the concept of fat or thin, except when there was an unusually fat kid in the school.

This was all about to change. The year I turned 9, I moved from England to South Korea. Twice a year, children's heights and weights are measured in order to keep track of their growth. Of course, the intention is all good. The problem lies in that when one child is being measured and weighed, everyone else in line can see the figures that show up on the machine. And while they can see that some children are taller than others, when it comes to weight, all that matters is the number that appears. I clearly remember being called "fat" in semester 2 of grade 3 - I was 147cm tall and weighed 38kg. At the age of 9, Korean children are used to seeing weights in the 20s range, and even as low as 18kg for the smaller children; naturally, I was dubbed "fat" from that day on.

The word "fat" lingered in the back of my head for years to come. I was still a rather skinny child, though since I returned to Korea, I was rapidly gaining weight. By the time I had hit the age of 12, I was 167cm tall, weighing somewhere around 50kg. I was not made fun of--in fact, my female classmates did tell me I was "so skinny"--yet it was bugging me that I was gaining weight that fast. That "5" in "50" scared me. It didn't help that I was noticing classmates almost as tall as myself, but wearing jeans 1-2 sizes smaller. Unfortunately, things would not go in my favour from there.

A year later, I was at 169cm, weighing 57kg. I had jumped 2-3 sizes in just a year, and the jeans that were so big that I could fit two fists in and still have room left were now just right. And to make things worse, I was now at the very end of the Korean female clothing sizing scale. I'd see pretty clothes and ask if they had my size; it turned out that at least 80% of reputable Korean brands did not produce clothes in my size. It was demoralising. A lot of people still thought I was thin, as my wrists and ankles were still as bony as ever, but a little part of me died every time I went out shopping. So I survived a good 4 years primarily on very baggy clothing. I felt that my figure was something to be concealed until I could drop down a few sizes, almost good enough to look like a supermodel. I was just glad that baggy trousers weren't completely out of style yet, as they had been immensely popular in Korea around the turn of the century.

Soon after I turned 17, I found myself in a new land: Canada. During the first few weeks, all I did was stay at home and eat. As a result, I put on a whopping 5kg in just three weeks. Mother was not pleased. One day, she called me. "C, you're fat. Come here." There she was with a tape ruler in her hands. She proceeded to measure my waist. Then she told me to go to the gym at least 3 times a week so I could lose weight.

Luckily I did lose that excess weight fairly quickly. But that was not the only good thing to happen; I was delighted to find that in this country, I could actually go shopping without killing my self-esteem every time! Back in Korea, I could only shop at a few stores because I was too big for the rest of them, but here, I was welcome to shop anywhere I pleased. No more asking "Excuse me.... ur.... what size does this come up to?", but instead, rummaging through all the disorganised piles at Boxing Day sales to see if I could dig up something nice in my size.

Many years have passed since then. I will admit that I will never be 100% content with my figure, but I can say that I no longer feel like an inadequate excuse of a female human being, or a blob of fat made to accentuate the perceived beauty of others. It has been a long journey to reach this state of mind - I hope I will be able to maintain this for many more decades to come.