Fat, Part 2

My 8th grade photo

[This is the second part of my "Fat" series, begun here. I'm writing this to work through some thoughts, so skip it if this isn't your thing.]

Sometime around the age of 12, as I mentioned in Part 1, I began packing on pounds in excess of what my frame needed. Developmentally, lots of children put on pounds just before they shoot up in height and get balanced out again. But I didn't lose it as I got taller; I just added more.

By one of the island waterfalls, around the beginning of 8th grade

Sometimes I wonder if part of this battle with weight during my upper elementary years (other than picking up my mother's concern about being overweight) had to do with the climate in the part of the world where I grew up. Living in the tropics with extremely hot, humid weather does not encourage one to get out and move. As a child I had done a lot of bicycle riding, tree climbing and running around. But as I reached puberty and felt heavy, moving became more hot and uncomfortable, the heat and humidity left painful chafing between my thighs, and I was far more happy lying on a couch or bed indoors with an icy drink or homemade popsicle and the ceiling fan set on high.

I made the dress myself, under my mother's watchful eye.

As I ponder the photo taken after church during my last weekend at home before leaving for boarding academy, I see a girl who was trying with all her might to be ready to fit in, and I love her for it. I tried to straighten my hair to look like the pictures in the magazines that depicted that mid-70's late hippy era look. But my hair stayed straight for about two minutes in the humidity. I was uncomfortable with being so tall in a country of short people, so I slumped, which made my stomach look poochier. My pigeon-toed stance in shoes that were custom-made to fit my feet, speaks of my vulnerability at the age of 14, my sense that as hard as I tried, I had no clue whether I would fit in among the "American kids" where I was going. It was an exciting time and a scary time. Truth is, all the new freshmen had the same insecurities that I did.

Freshman yearbook photo (rough proof)

It didn't take me long to recognize, entering boarding academy in Singapore, that I was on the fat side compared to my peers. And to realize that my home-designed, dressmaker-sewn clothes were out of style. I started putting effort into losing the weight, first of all.

The cafeteria served incredible food: pancakes on Sunday mornings, Asian curry for Tuesday lunch, pizza on Wednesdays, granola with peanut butter sauce and applesauce (we called it "manna") for Friday suppers, sweet rolls and milk for Saturday morning breakfast in the dorms, ice cream after lunch on Saturday.  They fed us like kings and queens. I wasn't going to make any progress without drastic measures. Skipping suppers at the cafeteria made the most sense to me, and the pounds started to melt off. Additionally, our P.E. teacher made us girls work hard out there in the stifling heat and humidity. It did the trick.

By the time my mother visited me near the end of my freshman year, I was much slimmer, and pleased to pose for a photograph with her.  (I am surprised to realize that in this picture my mom was two years older than I am now. It would be interesting to get into her head at that time and see how she was thinking.)

Sophomore yearbook photo, rough proof

My sophomore year I roomed with a girl who had lived some years in the United States. She updated my hairstyle and got me into clothes that looked more like what the other girls were wearing. She, too, was found it difficult to manage her weight, and we both shared the perception that we were fat. It's interesting now to read research findings that people who hang around with others who are overweight, tend to put on weight themselves. I know from experience how easy it is to take on the perception of being overweight, and from there it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Note my brother covering up his bare feet!

Looking at a photo of my brother and me taken at home following my sophomore year, I see a girl who was not by any means obese. To me, I just look normal. So why did I continue to see myself at the time as having troubles with weight? In those years of boarding academy I never would have been caught dead wearing a two-piece bathing suit. I didn't think of myself as either attractive or unattractive. I just was, with this general awareness that fat was a problem for me.

Banquet dress, my junior year. You can chuckle at the 'fro, if you like.

One thing I did catch onto, a typical misunderstanding held by overweight people, was that flowy garments would somehow cover a person's weight sins. I think it came from my mom. So my banquet dress my junior and senior years was a gorgeous hand-painted thing created by a fabric artist on my home island and sewn by our dressmaker. But it looked a bit like I'd been draped in a white sack. (Note to anyone reading: 3/4 sleeves work against a slim line.)

I kept trying, though. I continued on and off to skip suppers, and it worked pretty well. My reward was being able to buy ready-made clothes in Singapore stores, rather than having my clothes made. I loved it when I could do this. It felt like I was getting more normal, becoming more like a girl my age should look.

Our junior class, at the end of the school year. I'm the one with the cowl neck.

It's reassuring to realize, as I write, that most of my attention during these years was focused somewhere else than on weight. I was figuring out North American culture from my peers, doing fairly well in my studies, managing my crushes on boys and fending off the couple of boys who got crushes on me, developing my musical skills and leadership skills, figuring out my likely career path, and just having a great deal of fun. A poochy tummy was a minor frustration, and some clever draping of material could minimize it.

It's also interesting to realize that several of the slim girls in the class picture above, girls who I envied for their figures back then, now carry significantly more weight than I do. It doesn't make my own challenges easier; it's just interesting to note how things turn out unexpectedly over time.

One more thing I should mention: I never had a boyfriend during these high school years. It seemed like the boys I liked, didn't return the compliment. And the boys who got crushes on me (at least, the ones I knew of) were not in the least bit appealing to me. I pondered that. The one message that resounded in my head was the one said by that guy on the badminton court outside our church: "Waaaaa. You getting so fat, ah. You never get boyfrien' like dat, lah."  When I tried to explain to myself why I wasn't attractive to a boy I thought was really cool, I figured it must be that--I was physically unattractive. I wasn't slim. That must be it.

But it was a small pool, a school of 70 students in the heart of Singapore. And I didn't need to be in a rush to be steady-dating a boy. Maybe my special person would show up in college.

Senior yearbook photo

And so my senior year in boarding academy arrived, with such a difference in me from the day I arrived in Singapore for that first year. I was active and busy, and looked pretty decent in terms of size. My favorite church dress was a store-bought pink one with a lace collar. I'd grown up and grown in during my four years in that school. The environment had built my self-esteem and self-efficacy. I had made significant progress in learning how to interact with others in western culture. I had learned that I was a leader, and I believed what the religious speakers told us when they came to our school: "You young people are the future leaders of our church, getting prepared for leadership right here in this school."

With a couple of friends, graduation weekend

My goal was to be prepared to go to college in England or the United States. That preparation needed to be academic, personal ... and I wanted to be slim when I went. Wearing my elegant golden Chinese brocade skirt during graduation weekend, I felt ready.