To Matter To You

I don't know why people bother about my size. I mean, why should it? My father, especially hates me being fat. Okay, for the record, I am not fat, fat. I'm kinda big. You know, like a walking cupboard. I am not round and cute and soft. With chubby cute cheeks. No, I'm like a giant. I have broad shoulders, unremarkable boobs, non-existent waist and a flat a*s. I envy those hour-glass and pear-shaped plus size ladies. At least they look like women. Me, I look like a wide walking wadrobe. Like a man. No wonder I'm still single. That and the fact that i have zero s*x appeal.. I remember when I was young, my father would comment on my eating and the amount of food that I was consuming. He would watch me like a hawk at the dining table. Just waiting to catch me when I take a second helping of anything. He even told me (seriously, I might add) that I should just stop eating altogether if I want to lose weight. Since I have a lot extra fat on me. True story. And whenever my mum called us for meals and I declined, he would be so pleased. Another thing that he likes to do is to relate me being fat with every problem he encounters. For example, when I didn't score so well in Maths, he would blame it on my eating habits. War in Bosnia? My fault, for being so fat.. It started raining, so he couldn't play golf? Yep, you guessed it, my fault for being soooo fat. Urgh. I hated him. And I still do. The best thing that ever happened to me was when I went off to college. To be away from his critical comments and body-shaming statements is just so liberating. But I forgot that even with my father being so far away, there are people like him. And they are every where, always ready to pass judgement. And they are my every day hurdles. I just know I will never be free of them.