Prominent Queen est. 1995

“You look a lot like Song Hye Kyo, you know? How could you not see that?

“Now, looking at you, you reminded me of Fridha Kahlo a lot.”

I found myself stuttering. I couldn’t respond besides muttering a simple “Thank you.”

You see, I have spent my whole life being told that I am ugly. I have repeatedly spoken about this matter until I felt bored over it. 

Yet, to me, it is still essential to point out the actual fact that still haunts many women even today: we are told that we are not enough.

It is not a matter of whether I am “beautiful” enough (in the face) or not. It was also always about the body size, “Why so fat? Why so disproportional?”

My brother still teased me to this day about how there was once in my life that I would literally turn the mirror in our shared room away just because I couldn’t see my own reflection. I hated my body so horribly. The fact that the closest to me also “celebrated along” did not help. I think I was between 15 and 17 in 2009 when I was genuinely jealous of people with bulimia and anorexia. I thought to myself: if only I would have that illness for myself, maybe, for once, I would be enough. 

Then, I lost weight, the first time I had my heart truly broken. I was 17. Suddenly, I became visible to everyone. “Look, she is pretty now.” It was, although I had numerous achievements under my belt. It was, although I was trying to live a good life. It was even though I got admitted into one of the most prestigious universities in Indonesia. What mattered was that I became pretty and, therefore, favorable.

I regained weight soon after I got into the university. My Bachelor days were one of the most horrible nightmares I could endure. A philosophical, artistic, social studies, and business mind who got stuck in a pharmacy study. Eating was a resort. So, it was natural that I put back on some weight. I had to maintain a straight face in social situations among the people from my past, “Oh, no. Why would you gain fat again? You became ugly again.”

Then, on the last day of my bachelor years, I lost another 20kg. The thesis was grueling, and as a cherry on top, the man I was so in love with turned out to be a nightmare of its own. (Something I could only recall now, much later in life.) I was in pain, yet, I was pretty. At least according to them. “Oh, finally! You lost another weight! You look pretty again.”

Then, there was the pandemic. I gained 20kg because I couldn’t work out because of the non-existent time and the non-existent space. I was losing my grip again because I spent my “supposedly golden years” (24-25) in chastity. While celebrities everywhere would celebrate how they lost weight by working at home. Because you live in a condominium, goddamnit. I wish something would knock the senses onto their heads. 

So, yeah. I never felt beautiful. Even these days, when I would work out every day, dancing, looking at my movement in the mirror, I always felt the urge to cry: Jesus Christ, why so fat? Why so ugly? Either the belly fat, the thigh, the arm, or the teeth.

Then, there was a doctor I encountered who would say, “Love your body, love yourself movement is toxic. It’s teaching people to live unhealthy.”

I remembered feeling so disappointed and about to cry after reading that. Another account said, “Maybe, you should not be fatphobic for once, to embrace your body.” When I think that the account owner never encountered the firsthand, constant fat shaming on one’s own account.

“You are pretty, Lidya. Like Song Hye Kyo or Frida Kahlo.”

I remembered that in both occurrences, my brain would shut down. I would swallow a giggle, although deep inside, my brain went “404 Error Not Found” mode. My brain was thinking of endless different possibilities. 

“Was it truth, preparation for another bullies, longing for me to praise back? What, what is it exactly?”

And yes, I would just accept praise for my beauty every time. Yet, through this writing, I have to clarify that those souls you have been tainted by because you called them “fat=ugly,” never forget. Maybe, it was confirmed that it had a benefit of its own: I am tough. I became indifferent if people commented something on my physique. Still, a lot of people, women, don’t. 

You are responsible for the women who are now hating their reflection, thus hindering themselves from becoming a supermodel. Pick countless other scenarios on your own. Be mindful of your speech. It was never just about the “Oh, you are fat” scenario.

July 14th, 2022

Groningen