confessions of a skinny girl

thanksgiving,1988: my mom has an appointment for an ultrasound to check on her baby's development, 7 months into pregnancy. she finishes the appointment and makes an attempt to leave the hospital, but i wasn't having any part of that.

sometime later in the evening, i was born, weighing in at barely 4 pounds. the doctors immediately stuck me in an incubator and told my parents that due to the complicated nature of the fact that i was overly premature and most of my body wasn't quite right, i wouldn't be able to leave the hospital for awhile. they weren't even entirely sure i would survive. they weren't sure how i would grow up.

i progressed through the first few years of school as a problem child who refused to do anything i didn't consider fun. i was enrolled in a ukrainian boarding school where i couldn't stand ukrainian class. eventually, my parents took me out of that school and into a regular public school. but once i had applied myself, the faculty soon realized that i was too smart for my own good. now i was being bullied for being a small, skinny kid who was also really smart.

i wasn't sure why this kept happening. it wasn't my fault that i was skinny or intelligent. i ate as much as the next kid but never gained any weight. my parents had taught me how to eat healthy and it stuck with me because when i started eating like shit, i felt like shit. it was easy to see the connection that healthy food = a healthy, alive amber.

several schools approached me to enroll in gifted programs and instead, my parents decided to move to a remote area and let my brother and i grow up there. the public school gave me a gifted test and put me in different classes even though i had expressed no interest in those classes. as i got older, i kept trying to hide how skinny i was in loose fitting clothes. having to change for gym class and noticing that all of the other girls were much bigger than me was intimidating. i would once again be bullied for being small, even though i had a way with words to get out of almost any situation.

this continued to happen despite me never commenting on any other body but my own. am i supposed to be your size? am i not supposed to be wearing kid's sized clothes in grade 9? are you not supposed to be able to see my hips, collar bone, and ribs protrude out of my skin? well, i'm sorry. but that's just how it's always going to be. and if that meant a life of loneliness and constant bullying, i didn't care. the optimist in my knew that someday things would change.

i spent my teenage years with the same issues; people would shame me for being skinny and others would tell me that they'd kill for my body. let's just say that skinny shaming always outweighed the positive aspect. and over the last five years, i've been able to "put on weight" - where my hips and ribs weren't nearly as noticeable protruding out of my body. but i could just as easily take it off if i exercised or became sick.

at 5'6", a normal BMI should be anywhere from 118lbs to 130lbs. i can't ever recall a time where i came anywhere close to the 130 mark. even today, i still get skinny shamed. i get close friends telling me that i'll "never be able to finish that" or that i've "eaten a lot" - phrases that continuously irk me in numerous ways. in grade 10, i weighed 115lbs. a decade later, i weigh in at about 118lbs and that's after i had a life-threatening illness.

i keep seeing articles every day over the last little while where fashion magazines and photos are actually photoshopping women's bodies to be less skinny. less bony. more "normal" looking. we're shamed for being overweight, for being normal looking, and for being skinny. most of which is thrust upon us and cannot be changed without determination. there's issues for having a thigh gap. there's memes of hot dog legs and bikini bridges. society will always find something wrong with your body and i think that's totally fucked up.

my brother and i have been roughly the same size all our lives and yet, because he's a dude, he doesn't get the same kind of skinny shaming i have experienced. dudes have it a little easier but i'm not saying it's any better.

from what i've been through, i'm just happy to be alive.
love your body because it's the only one you have.

a hospital visit i won't soon forget

i was supposed to have that cystoscopy on thursday. i was terrified.

i remained cautiously optimistic in the fact that i was told they would give me a sedative or anaesthetic to help me relax. i was told it would be no more invasive than a pap smear. and well, that's fine, but i've never had one of those either. needless to say, i was pretty damn nervous to have my who-ha exposed and on display for the first time.

then, they told me i wasn't able to have a sedative or anaesthetic. they told me they don't do that. uhh, wait a minute. the secretary who booked my appointment said i could have drugs if i wanted them. and now you're telling me i can't? okay. well. uhm. let's give it a shot then. the nurse told me i wouldn't be able to feel much and it would be "just a pinch" - i'm a little relieved until she starts prepping me.

HELLO LADY?! THAT IS NOT A PINCH. THAT FEELS LIKE YOU'RE RIPPING APART MY FUCKING VAGINA DEAR GOD STOP.  i was crying and yelling and screaming. and all they had done was put some freezing gel on me.

yeah, so, that didn't go well. they didn't even try to go through with the procedure. and that's for the best. after i had regained my composure a bit, i talked to the urologist who ordered me some anaesthetic for next time and set up another appointment for next wednesday.

to get this anaesthetic, i had to go see a doctor at the walk-in clinic and get him to examine me, make sure i'm healthy, and sign off on the form to knock me out. guess who the doctor is? the one i fucking can't stand. the one who put me on the antibiotic that gave me c diff. the one that belittles me every chance he gets.

i calmly and politely discussed with him why i'm getting the cystoscopy and the instructions i was given to tell the doctor to ensure all the paperwork goes through. he then passively-aggressively mentions that i need to stop telling him how to do his job. WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?! this is MY body. this is what the UROLOGIST PERFORMING THE PROCEDURE WANTS AND IT'S DIFFERENT THAN THE NORMAL FORMS YOU HAVE TO FILL OUT, ASSHOLE.

he quickly runs through my physical, asking me when was the last time i had a physical done. i don't remember. he laughs. he then asks if my weight and height on the form are accurate, even though i had just estimated. again, he laughs inappropriately and i ask if i could weigh myself. without mentioning that he's finished examining me, he goes to leave the room. i ask if i'm supposed to bring all of my stuff and if we're done. he says "yes, we're done here" - DUDE. TELL ME THAT THEN. DON'T WANDER OFF IN A HUFF. YOU'RE A FUCKING DOCTOR. COMMUNICATE WITH ME.

i want to mention that when i saw this doctor days before i was hospitalized the second time and when he had prescribed me the second antibiotic, he asked me if i had sex in the last few months. i told him no, because i haven't. and that's the story i've been telling every doctor i had met over the past couple months. why would i lie? well, for some reason, this doctor seemed convinced i was lying to him and again, laughed at me, almost implying that i was a whore.

a nurse weighs me and i weigh in at 118 pounds. the doctor then tells me that i was "close" as i had written down 120 on the form. he either thought i was fatter than 120 or skinnier than 120... and it's probably the fatter one, knowing this guy. even the secretary at the urologist's office looked at me, as i was completely bundled up for the cold weather and said, "you look like you're about 110 and much taller than 5'6" 

i just want to get this test over with finally so they can tell me why i keep getting these recurring infections for no reason. wednesday needs to get here faster.