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I fan to feel stronger. I inhabited from to pounds seductively, hurriedly obsessive.

Self-love, anyone can do. It became a little diluted on social media. In the media, all you see is witn Asians. The first thing someone says is something about your weight. What I do want is a strong body. I no longer care what people think when they look at me. It also helped that I had a supportive partner. He just accepted me for me. In the media, all you see is the light-skinned Asians. Being bombarded with those images adds to feeling bad about myself. I felt really proud of my darker skin. You do end up feeling like you have to look like those people.

It made me feel kind of hopeless. It would have been nice to see that growing up. Well, I am, in fact, Asian. I dated almost exclusively Asians and had a boyfriend from 16 to When I came to New York, it was a weird interaction with how girls interacted with me. I was already othered. Because I was bigger and athletic and had kind of a colorful personality and was bold, it turned a lot of people off but also piqued a lot of their interest. I was coasting on that Asian chick with american body. I felt like with non-Asians, I was a gateway Asian. I think it has to do with food. I never let that go. I never pushed myself in the way I looked. I found more comfort in eating food and having a little bit of something to identify with being Asian.

I love the Cambodian version of hot pot. I like the fact we all sit around and eat together and the wholesomeness of everyone eating it. I used to throw up after some meals. And then I would binge-eat in the dark. It also made me realize the importance of education because they were trying to take it away from us. Exploring food, the way I look — all of this — has helped me understand who I am more. Growing up, I was really attracted to hip-hop culture. I related to that more. Now I do CrossFit and teach it too. But I was really skinny and short.

Yeah, there is an Asian height thing. And I was a little more self-conscious. Just being skinny, scrawny and bony. It was just genetics because I came over here from Vietnam. I grew up with only white people, and I think initially I wanted to get muscular to overcome stereotypes, in a way. Now my goal is to perform well. Now I want to see how much weight I can lift based on performance rather than aesthetics.

Sure, it lets me walk into a ameerican confidently. You kind of go into self-hatred, then self-care. I was into K-pop, where you see bovy body images, but I was also into the American magazines. On one hand, you barely see Asian-American bodies in media. No diversity of images. I work toward being healthy more than being skinny. My parents are those really progressive Korean parents. They never pressured me to lose weight. I developed breasts and hips faster than other girls. So they understood how my body was different.

Other Asian girls my age had a lot of negative talk about being skinny and being a certain size. They were already skinny.

American Asian chick body with

It was disturbing to see the kind of effects we can have on each other. There was a lot of internal pressure on myself. My mom was an art director. When I said I wanted to be a ballerina at age 6, they just got me ballerina costumes. My parents made me believe in myself. This was one area I knew I could define for myself. My disability was treated as just a practical consideration. The priority was me growing and being as happy a person as possible. When I see another tall Asian, we nod in recognition of each other. So yeah, height can kind of be an advantage. I was also really damn happy when I graduated. I had no confidence, so I almost dropped out my first year.

We don't know what to do with you. I told myself that I can still be beautiful. I can still do all the things I want to do. I was, like, a size 2, and then when I left school, I had put on between 90 and pounds. It was a slow creep. When I lost the weight, it was because I got sick, but I mourned the weight. I went from to pounds really, really fast. I mourned the fat. I had an association to be fat and happy. I don't remember exactly what prompted it, but I wrote a diary entry in September detailing my frustration at watching my family members eat what they wanted at the dinner table while I had to settle for "eating just leaves.

Raised by a Korean family and growing up in America, I was ushered into a crux of Western and Western-influenced Eastern ideals of beauty. As many other children do, I wanted to be accepted -- in this case, by both worlds. The only things standing in the way of this acceptance was not having big eyes, long lashes, pale skin, straight pearly whites, lithe body, thin nose-bridge, tall cheekbones, a river of black hair, soft but defined jawline, piano-fingers with lunar nails, or a demure disposition. Luckily for me, I didn't need to aspire to be a "type" or want to look like "x" -- I had a hyper-specific checklist thrust upon me, with hallmarks of worth so clearly indicated that a nine-year-old could understand it.

Yet I remained a short, tan, chubby fourth grader who liked her hair in a ponytail, bit her nails compulsively, and enjoyed flicking dried mud from her calves after a romp around the field. This fourth grader liked cartwheels, Polly Pockets, finishing timed tests before her peers, Saturday morning toast, pulling grass out of the ground, and reading library books. Before long, she decided she liked "eating just leaves.

It also made me help the information of dark because they were happy to take it then from us. Indeed else is out there. It was so jealous.

I became even more aware of how much space my body took up vhick a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and so on. I had exactly one meal before the first day of school so americna I could look presentable at cjick new school I'd be attending. I dared not step into the sun too much throughout the summer, fearing my skin would tan and make me darker than acceptable. After becoming the subject of one too many playful comments from family such as "Judy, you look like a peasant who's been working the fields all day," SPF was my best friend. In 10th grade, I attended my first high school Winter Formal. My meals the week before consisted of cups of apple juice accompanied by some fruit.

I was swept off my feet by Tumblr's infamous "Thinspiration" movement: That night, as my mother cooked dinner in the kitchen, I sealed myself into the bathroom with a bottle of Elmer's glue and a toothpick in my latest attempt to reshape the way my eyes looked. They needed to be bigger, more alert. A week before the dance, wrestling a strapless dress two inches short of being zipped up in a Windsor changing room, I glared at myself with my almond eyes and thought: My junior year, I had a calorie-tracking diary in which I'd log every single bite I put into my mouth so that I could calculate my daily allocation of self-fulfillment every night.

When I discovered online apps that would calculate my daily self worth for me, I was overjoyed. What a wonder the digital age was!

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