Perfect Girl in a Skinny Body

And The Illusion of Being Her

This is about my journey going from trying to be the perfect girl in a skinny body to having a healthy mind in a healthy body. Trust me I'm not there yet, so this isn't advice for anyone. I'm writing this to remind my future self. And if you, the reader, have come across this on the internet, I hope this resonates with you and lightens your mood if you feel like you're not enough to be loved.

People have told me I'm charismatic, funny, sarcastic, self-aware, and someone they want to be friends with. I'm not trying to brag, but I'm generally well-loved. Well, at least until very recently when that perfect girl image started to glitch. And underneath it, I finally saw my real self. Honestly? I hated her. I am too lazy, burn out too easily, too sensitive, desparately want to be loved by everyone, and not a good daughter to my parents. I decided to go to therapy to fix that part of myself that I couldn't love. Because surely there's something wrong with me, right?

Besides, people have told me I'm pretty attractive. I don't easily believe them, but on good days, if I put on enough makeup and lose a few kilograms, I can kind of see what they see. But most of the times, especially when someone is disapproving of me, I think it's all because I'm fat and my nose too big, and my eyes too hooded. I have tried starving, training in the gym, going to pilates and running a half marathon. Because surely if they didn't love me back, it must've been because I was too fat, right?

Until last year, I lived in that illusion of being that perfect girl in a skinny body and I was proud of myself for that. Because I really worked hard to earn that. I was an overachiever, spoke two languages fluently, went to one of the top universities in Asia, did my first internship only after completing year one, studied data science in university but still loved learning about politics and human psychology. But I was kind of shy and socially awkward, and not really conventionally pretty. So I learned how to dress nicely, put on makeup that looked good on me. I adopted this new shiny persona of being this happy, perfect girl with no insecurities and was never hurt by anyone. And I started to feel like I'm really fitting in, being well-loved. But I was never happy, and I felt like I had to move out of the country and get a fancy job and earn a shit ton of money to be happier.

I graduated from university, left Hong Kong and got into a tech startup in Korea as an engineer. I moved in with my parents after living apart for 8 years to stay closer to them and save money. I liked that I was learning a lot from my new job, but my parents didn't love it because it wasn't one of the biggest companies in the country. I developed a crush on a friend who didn't like me back, although I was the skinniest in my whole life at the time. So I went on a lot of dates, and I got a lot of attention, but from people I don't want attention from. That's when that illusion of the perfect girl in a skinny body started to glitch and crash. Once it started, there was no going back.

I was depressed. I gained weight and went back to normal weight. Work and commute was too much so I was burnt out. My parents didn't approve of my career anyway. So I applied to master's programmes to turn things around. I got into most of the programmes I applied to, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to pursue a master's because I wanted to learn more or because I wanted to escape the current situation. My parents weren't sure if I was worthy enough to make this big investment with all my depressive symptoms. I decided not to pursue the master's, because both mine and my parents' uncertainties in me were valid. So instead I switched my job from full time to part time.

I moved out of my parents place, and I had a lot more time outside of work and commute. I started going to Timeleft dinners to widen my social circle. I started keeping a journal. I started going to therapy. I reached back out to that friend who didn't like me back and I confessed my feelings anyway. I told him about the resentment I carried from all the signs he gave without ever saying the words. And at first, I started to hate myself even more, because I was finally seeing myself under bright light for the first time through therapy and introspection. Instead of putting my parents on a pedestal, I started to resent them for not raising me into this secure adult. Instead of feeling like I was crazy, I started to resent that friend for not giving me clarity and making me feel like I was crazy; he had an avoidant attachment style.

But then I had this epiphany. Therapy wasn't making me hate myself and my parents and the guy I liked. It was teaching me to hold both truths at once. I am imperfect, but I deserve to be loved. My parents were imperfect, but they've done their best to love me and be themselves at the same time. That friend could show their love to me and not have the ability to go through with their feelings because they're insecurely attached, like I am too.

Therapy and introspection weren't hurting me more, they were building muscles in me and that process fucking hurt. According to the NHS website, muscle building hurts due to Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness (DOMS), a common and normal response to strenuous or unaccustomed exercise that involves microscopic tears in muscle fibers. Big word (scary acronym), medical bullshit blah blah blah. I just quoted that to sound cool. The point is, I was building muscles in my mental health, understanding what happened to me, healing my inner child, and learning the ability to stay strong when I face similar obstacles in the future. And holy shit, maybe they're not even obstacles, they are just those scary looking exercise machines that will make my muscles sore in the short term but stronger and bigger in the long term.

And it's funny because I think most people understand the "muscle building and becoming healthy" part a lot easier than "going to therapy and introspecting to having a healthy mind". But for me, I could understand how physical health and building physical muscles is important only after I made the analogy for my mental health, because I'm this big nerd with a weak and tiny body (haha). Now, insert the NHS quote again. Big word (scary acronym), medical bullshit blah blah blah. The point is, physical muscle building is also important and it fucking hurts when you're new to it.

I started understanding how the perfect overachieving well-loved girl mask was the hard shell I needed to put on because I was so soft and vulnerable with no muscles to support myself without the hard shell. Like a crab. I was an arthropod with an exoskeleton. But I'm human, and humans don't need exoskeletons because we have bones and muscles to support that soft skin from within. I didn't open up to people with my vulnerabilities, because I had no mental muscle to still love myself if they see and judge the real me. Olympic-level mental gymnastics, good job, little me. But really, I didn't know better, I was just a kid trying to be loved. So really, therapy and journaling and introspection are slowly peeling my exoskeleton and revealing my soft skin, while building stronger muscles from within. And the first step was to peek through my crab shell look at my weak naked body and hating it. Then trying not to hate it (I'm at this stage). Then accepting it (hopefully soon in the future), right?

A hermit crab peeking out of its shell. It thinks it's ugly now but later it will love itself.

And the same goes for my physical body. My exoskeleton was my thin appearance. I sometimes starved myself and I sometimes worked out (I'd tell people it's for health but really it was to lose weight). But like my mental health, I should try to reveal my soft skin while building stronger muscles from within. And we all know how important it is to have strong muscles, but we often ignore how important it is to have that soft skin, that little flap of fat around your belly. I'm gonna insert another fun fact because I like to be pretentious. If you have a cat, you probably noticed your cat has a flap around its belly, and you probably love your cat regardless, or even more for it because it adds cuteness. (If you don't think you can love your cat regardless, please reconsider getting one because if it's a cat, it WILL have a belly flap.) That belly flap is called primordial pouch and it serves three main purposes: protection of organs, flexibility for stretching, and food storage. Another big biology word, cats are cute, and blah blah blah. Basically, it might not look pretty but you need that shit to survive. And people who love you will love you regardless of it. So I'm trying to keep the healthy amount of flap around my belly through eating well and enough, while growing muscles from within through exercise (probably running because I started to quite like it).

A cat with a belly flap and slaying hard. Seriously, you still don't think it's cute?

It's really hard to hold all the truths and nuances about myself. But I understand that's the only way to having a healthy mind in a healthy body. And I believe in myself that I have the strength to endure that "Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness" to grow my muscles and embrace my "primordial pouch" (soft skin / belly flap). I'm going to come back to this cringey entry when my muscles are too sore that I end up crying at 3AM. But I want to tell myself that I'm loveable, I'm strong, I'm kind, and I'm beautiful. You, the reader, are too. You are loveable, you're strong, you're kind, and you're beautiful.

It's getting a little cringe now, and I haven't healed enough to own all my cringe yet. So this is where this entry ends. Plese know that I'm working on myself. I want to be better. I'm getting better. I'm learning how to get better for the first time without losing myself in the process. And learning that was so difficult I needed three psychology books, hundreds of dollars spent on therapy, 100K+ words in my journal and two biology metaphors in this entry. And I'm proud to have invested my time, money and a lot of fucking effort for that lesson. So if you know me, please be kind to me. And whether or not you know me, please be kind to yourself.