As you all know from my last post, I pretty much nearly died a week ago. Twice.
My family gives me a lot of emotional pain in regards to how I look. They’ve always been upset about my weight and size. I’ve always been made to feel ungainly as I grew up. Wasn’t really known to be a looker, really. Not fair or slim, you know, typical Indian defining qualities of beauty.
It didn’t help when I told them that my in-laws didn’t fancy me because of how I looked. It made them panic and worry even more and they would occasionally make remarks that insinuated that my boyfriend was having doubts with our relationship whenever he never called, when he hesitated to introduce me to his family and when they didn’t treat me well after meeting me.
My boyfriend nearly broke up with me because of the pressure his parents exerted on him because of how I looked. They told him that if he didn’t break up with ugly me, they’d stop funding his education. And for a brief moment, he picked his education over me. I guess he probably thought that a girlfriend wasn’t going to get him through life but a degree would. Awfully pragmatic but true.
When the incident happened, my uncle who flew up made a comment about how my family needs to realize that enough is enough and that in their obsession/’care’about my weight, I nearly died. A fat Hera is better than no Hera.
I used to be a size 18. I’ve lost so much weight from the whole ordeal, I’ve dropped down to a 14. That’s 2 dress sizes and 2.5 stones of weight loss.
Today, the uncle who hates my weight the most just told me that once I’ve recovered, I need to go on a drastic diet because I’m still big and that I’m still in need of some fixes.
It broke my heart to think that even though I nearly died, they were still thinking about my weight.
I’m deeply unhappy because I was so unwell and this is still happening. I guess they’ll only ever stop if I actually did die.