Skinny Boy Anthem
"You don’t intend to mock my body, yet you target my flaws like a hawk"
i don’t feel comfortable in my own body. it feels like it doesn’t even belong to me anymore. everywhere i turn (or scroll) it’s ‘healthy looking men’ with biceps competing with apes, telling you to get in shape, consume one or two weight gain product, learn how to get in shape from a seven page course, or lift weights to get a little bump out.
i never bought the idea of looking a certain way to feel accepted or to be “a part of something” in a society that’ll still judge you no matter what or how you looked like. either someone is sharing their build, or a before and after slideshow from how puny they used to be, to the monsters that they are now.
“why’re you so skinny?”
“you’re so skinny, are you sure you can lift that?”
“do you have eating disorder?”
i talked about how i never felt comfortable in my own body anymore and feeling like i was outwardly ugly, and still, even after sharing it, a version of me wants me to believe that it is true.
‘I feel weird and ugly’
“because if you want someone to feel less of themselves, all you have to do is define them. tell them, “your nose is too big”, tell them “you’re shapeless”, define them in a way that makes them want to question their existence.”
the version of you, a shadow of your own anxiety and fears, like a character you formed in your head with the haunting whisper of mother gothel, telling you that you’re not that great and can never be that version you want for yourself.
when i was still in middle school, i was always bullied by my teachers for how i looked. it was mostly because i sweat a lot after playing with my friends and then, they tell me, i smelled because not only did i sweat, i was very fat too.
and now, being in this body, this lean, lack of self-confidence body that’s still recovering from what seems to be a childhood trauma response, because even after all these years, you still aren’t comfortable in your body, i don’t know what to do.
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each time i’d leave for class or simply go out to get something to eat, i’d look for the biggest of my shirts and trousers that had enough space, you’ll think i was thick. i never wore any shirt too revealing, or a pair of trousers too tight to my waist, afraid that if i did, you would see how thin my waist is and how defined my rib cage is.
i still carry the fear of being see without a shirt like a shadow that only came for me when i didn’t know how to control. even though i was hot, alone and with my roommate who never wore a shirt inside, i still couldn’t let him see me without one.
i did once when i first came to school, and he asked about the dent in my chest. after that conversation, he’s never seen me without a shirt for three years.
“what happened to your chest?”
“what do you mean?”
“that dent in your- never mind.”
now, it may seem I am comfortable enough to be seen without a shirt, but my fear didn’t stem from not loving my body or self-pity. it came from outsiders. the silent eye service at my body by guests, by friends and the whispers i’d catch when I walked past. they filled the fear, and trauma I had to live with for years, laughing it off with a humorless joke when they asked.
‘i’m not afraid of loving someone with my whole heart. i’m afraid of them having to see me without my shirt on.’
without any coverage to hide my imperfection and flaw. to look at me and then change their minds about sharing an intimate moment with me. that fear, the fear of the unknown, it lingers the most, and i don’t think i am brave enough to face it.
“you don’t intend to mock my body, yet you target my flaws like a hawk.”
—[From my upcoming prose-poetry collection, Within Me]
the perception of my body changed when i read replies from people who i presume were boys and a few, judging by their bio were girls, replying to a QOTD with “to get slim in 2026”, “to get leaner because fuck being thick” as their new year resolutions.
i guess body image affected very few people, and people often think it’s “fun” to be skinny because suddenly, losing weight and being 54-50 kg is… pretty.
i don’t like being stared at and told i’m “too skinny for that” or that i look sick because when did a person’s outward appearance give you the right to judge them openly?
You are beautiful, no matter what your weight scale tells you.
You write so well. You've defined how so many people including myself, feel.
Thank you
Another pectus-bro?
Hot damn, Son of Sam! I thought I was the only one with a built-in ashtray🥃