Growing up in a Nigerian household is not for the weak at all. I remember always being one of the biggest and tallest out of all my cousins, and I was reminded of that on a daily basis. “Oh, do you think you should be eating that?” or “Nne, you are getting too fat, why don’t you start fasting?” All of this told to an eight year-old girl, who still doesn’t know her body. Or even to the point where there were days I would cry for the harsh words that use to be thrown at my face left, and right at every Nigerian function, and be told ” You know you’re too big (or fat) to be crying like this!”, and that’s usually followed by more scolding and laughter by the adults. It got to the point where I would cover my body fully, no matter if was raining and humid or 100 degree weather, I shielded by body from the world. Thing this is I thought once I get older my body will way better, and I would finally experience joy when looking at my body. But boy was I wrong.

After getting through that awkward stage of puberty, I started to fully grow into myself, and when I mean fully… I mean fully. My breast and backside was bigger compared to other girls, and I had more of a grown woman/defined figure, and having that at 13 didn’t help me at all. I was hypersexualized when at school: from the boys touching/grabbing something on my body and running away to me being sent to the principal’s office for dressing up just like another girl in my class, but the only difference was I “filled” my clothes more. To the disgusting comments and stares I would get in public from older men (who were the same ages as my older sisters to people my father’s age) that made me just want to hide and never leave my home. I honestly felt trapped in a body that I didn’t want and couldn’t get rid of and develop a sense of body dysmorphia.

I would love to say that I had helpful people beside me to help me, but I didn’t. I have went through HELL and back with this body. I never got to experience and actually enjoy my body until of just of recent. For many years, I hated my body and I wish I could go back to my younger self and be the support and crying shoulder to get through those days of pain. I still struggle some days looking at my body, because I remember all the lashes of insults by others, and by myself, but as a growing woman I try to appreciate this body that God has blessed me with.