Weight a minute.

Weight a minute.

In one year, I have gained around 5 pounds, thanks to endless weekend junk food binges and complete inability to stick to an exercise routine. Now, every time I go to our house in Marikina, my family says, “Ang taba mo na!” Every. Single. Damn. Time.
To be perfectly honest, my weight doesn’t bother me that much. Okay, so I gained weight. Big deal. It only ever bothers me when some of my clothes don’t fit anymore. It only bothers me because of the way people react. “Tumaba ka!” they half-yell in an annoyingly condescending tone, with a matching condescending smile on their face.

As much as I’d like to say that my body image is unaffected by society’s glorification of size zero women, I can’t. All around us are pictures of ideal women: fat-free, not an inch of cellulite on their bodies.
On this occasion, though, I choose to stand up for myself, and say this loud and proud: I am one chubby bitch and if I want to eat chocolate in the middle of the night, then I will have my Twix, damn it!

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