The Book of Insecurities

Introduction

Intro

The very first time that I looked in the mirror and didn't like what I saw, I was 10 years old. Back then it wasn't about how fat or skinny I was. No, it was about something that I thought was much more embarrassing than that. I had boobs.

They were small, but they were still bigger than everyone else's in my class. I remember I was going to watch football at the stadium, and my mum had picked out this knitted sweater for me. It was gorgeous, a mixture of greys and whites that clung to my tiny body. But that wasn't what bothered me. No, what bothered me was the fact that in this sweater, my boobs looked as big as my mums ( or so I thought ). I so vividly remember being so disgusted and embarrassed, I didn't want anyone to see. But of course, my mum wanted to see how it looked on me because i'd never worn it before.

"It looks so good on you, I really like it" She had said, and my dad had wholeheartedly agreed. I remember standing in that tiny lounge room with insecurities biting at my feet, making me just want to curl up in a little ball and cry until the tears could somehow melt this piece of fabric off of my body.

"I don't really like it" I had announced to them. Their faces had furrowed, and changed to looks of confusion.

"Why not? It looks really good"

"I just don't like it" And with that I had stormed off to my room and pulled the gorgeous sweater off of my body, afraid to look in the mirror incase I would see them again.

I never wore that sweater again.

By the time I was 11, in 5th grade, I didn't care about my boobs anymore, mostly because all of my friends were starting to get them too. I remember having friends that were the year above me, and they all had boobs and boyfriends. I thought they were so cool.

So this was not the year that I was insecure about my boobs. No, this was the year that I started to notice the extra layer of fat that clung to my thighs, my stomach, and my arms. All of my 'cool' friends that had boyfriends were thin as ever, wearing shorts and crop tops on mufti days to boast their tiny bodies. I wanted to be just like them.

Little 11 year old me had decided that I needed to start exercising more. Prior to this, I had attended boxing twice a week and netball training once a week. It wasn't enough. I spoke to my instructor and he said that I was advanced enough to join in the adult classes, and so I did. I started attending boxing 5 times a week, twice on Tuesdays, twice on Wednesdays and once on Thursdays, the double up lessons being when I attended the kid's class and then the adults class right after.

This still wasn't enough, but I didn't know what else i could do, so I used to practice shooting in the front yard, 100 shots a day. I developed an obsession, yearning to be thinner like all of my friends were. In my eyes I was just the same as i always was, no matter how much exercise I did, but looking back on pictures I can now see how skinny I was slowly becoming.

I would say that when I was 12 was the 'peak' of my whole fitness phase so to speak. I continued to do boxing, doing workouts that left my body aching before each lesson, obsessing over my technique and stamina. My needs for exercise still weren't being met. That's when I saw that the netball association was advertising tryouts for a rep team, a team to represent my district in carnivals and games. That, I decided was what I wanted to do.

So I went into my yard and practiced. 100 shots, 200 shots, as many as I could fit in until it was dark. I went to the tryouts and I made it through the first stage. I was ecstatic, but I still had another trial to go.

100 shots, 200 shots, as many as I could fit in until it was dark.

I went to the second trial and I made it through. There was around 20 girls that made it through alongside me, culled down from the near 100 girls. I remember going to the very first training session and feeling so intimidated. The girls around me were tall and had been in this team for years. I was short and new to the whole experience.

All I remember from this first training session was that I was on my period and we did a lot of running.

At the end of the session I had felt so liberated, satisfied with the work that I had put in. The coach had come up to my mum and suggested that I attend the extra fitness training that a few of the girls go to, because if I wanted to stay in the squad then I would need to pick up my fitness. I remember feeling so wanted, hoping that she was suggesting this because she wanted me in her team.

Obviously I went to the fitness training, and I was not expecting it at all. We didn't do squats and lunges and pushups. No, we just ran. We ran and we ran and we ran, racking up around 4km in sprints. By the end 300m of sprinting I couldn't catch my breath, but I didn't want to stop. How embarrassing would it be if I was the only one to stop running. It would just prove my incompetence to keep up with the other girls.

I ended up hyperventilating and having to miss out on the last 100m.

At the end of 6th grade it was time to go off to high school. I wasn't worried, I was expecting to just go off to the same school as my friends, continue on with my life. 

But then my mum did some calling around, trying to find a good school for me that wasn't dodgy like the ones in my area.

The school she found wasn't near me. No, it wasn't within a half an hour car drive. It was more like a 14 hour flight away. The school that she had decided to send me to wasn't in Australia, where I had grown up. It was in America.

I didn't know how to react. Within a month we had packed up all of our stuff, ready to go. I didn't know where we were going, what our house looked like. All I knew was that it was somewhere that i'd never been, where I didn't have friends.

The house that we stayed at was temporary according to my mum. It was small and smelled bad, but she said that in a few years, once we get our feet that we will live in a big mansion with more rooms than we could count and a swimming pool in our yard. I'd never had one of those before.

I don't remember much from year 7. All I remember is no more boxing, no more netball, no more friends. I gained weight as a result of not exercising, although it was like I didn't care anymore.

Year 8 came and went, as did year 9. We're still in the same small house. I'm 16 now, about to start year 10. I guess you could say this is where my story really starts.

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