“I’ve grown up in a family that my mother has, with a lot of struggles and hardships, tried to free from its inherent orthodoxity. Growing up, I have never been told what to wear or how to wear it. But somehow, society did exactly that. I was told, “arrey… psst,” when my bra-strap had the audacity to peep out from my T-shirt. I remember this one time an auntie told me to do the same to my sister. Confused, I went and told her. My sister smirked and said, “Tell her I don’t give a fuck”. That confused me thoroughly.
Being sexually abused as a child put me in deep trauma, especially with regard to my breasts. I’d hate it if anyone even looked at them for a second longer. But that all changed when I came to college. I began not only appreciating my body with the help of my super supportive girl friends, but also wore more revealing clothes to embrace my body type that I’d always been told was too “manly”. My friends and I would also joke about the two moles I have on my chest and call them the “chastity” moles, for I’d decided to show them off only on certain occasions, to certain people.
I’ve gone from being meh about my small breasts, to wanting to hide them somehow, to sort of appreciating them, to losing weight and losing them too.
As of now, I’m in a zone where I’ve gained weight, and I love how my body looks because of it. I look healthy, I look like someone that knows their body has flaws, but also knows that so does everyone’s. I guess I’m finally in the same space as my sister, the I-don’t-give-a-fuck zone.”
