I am Falsa magra – falsely thin and ridiculed for it.
I have always been picked on as the skinny girl in the office. They do it to put me down. I don’t like it.
Sometimes I just go along with everyone else and make fun of myself, self deprecatingly. But in my heart, I hate them who sneered at my pencil thin body.
At a height of five feet and weighing only 94 lbs, anybody except for the people at the gym, who knows better about health, thinks I am skinny. I have slender legs and arms and flat abdominals – probably brought about by my genes and years of pilates and yoga. If I wear t-shirts, I look like a hanger.
And yet with very little clothes on, I am rounded and fleshy – like all the fats and muscle tissues filled all the tiny interstices of my body up to its full capacity, leaving no space to breathe but my arteries and veins to supply me oxygen.
Picking jeans for me would be a difficult affair because those jeans sized for the skinny and shorty girl who is supposed to be me, will never fit my thighs, hips and buttocks.
A few weeks ago, a cross-section cut on my lower abdominals performed by the doctors proved medically, that I am fat. When they opened me up for salpingo-oophorectomy, thick fat tissues filled my lower abdominals, amusing the doctors including my also skinny Auntie who is part of the medical team. This physical anomaly that has previously made me an object of ridicule in the office among whale sharks, has now become a comic relief to the doctors performing an otherwise difficult medical surgery.
When my doctor visited me a few days after, she was smiling in a way that is jeering and said, “You are deceivingly thin. You see, you have fats as thick as this!”- using her fingers to illustrate about several centimeters deep of fat tissues.
I felt proud.
I am Falsa magra and I love it.