The three of us are close and I honestly don’t mind if we talk about it (so don’t police my friends if you ever think of doing so). But given how society teaches us now to traipse through this topic, I definitely understood why vigilance was in the tone.
Prior to this, someone also mentioned my face has gotten smaller and I should be eating. (I eat. I honestly do. Like I sleep despite people telling me I don’t.) The convo with Arra and Raquel became a confirmation as I remembered that earlier note. Honestly, I didn’t take the other friend’s words seriously. I thought we prolly just didn’t see each other for a long time and her eyes were adjusting.
I’m 48 kilograms now, I told the two of them while I was laughing. I weighed myself before eating lunch that day.
I was around 56 kg six months ago.
I was never ashamed of my weight. I never am. It was never a problem for me despite how society has its standards (and even Science — Hello, BMI). Regardless when I started to weigh 56 kg, coming from playing around 49-52 kg since high school. Regardless when Noel and my cousins started to enthuse, Ate is a gasul! Ate is just bochog! How come she’s only 52 kg?!
Ambivalence is what I feel about it.
When I was a kid, Granny would always tell me I’m so thin. Relatives will sound off the same hence my moniker was/is Teng. A variation of Ting which came from walis ting-ting (broomstick).
One summer, Granny went to the doctor. She asked me to accompany her for her check-up. And well, well, well, she suddenly asked the doctor to prescribe me vitamins so I can gain some weight.
I’m not really sure if they worked. I don’t remember drinking them again after consuming the first bottle, or box, or foil. Yes, I don’t remember what the vitamin was.
I also started getting fond of bahaw (day-old rice). I think that was more effective as my high school ID photo showed fluffy cheeks. I used that ID for four years.
And in a year in high school (I’m redacting the year because people may identify), our Araling Panlipunan teacher asked me with a vivid tone of concern, Thea, may sakit ka ba? Ang payat mo, the moment I went near her and greeted her to ask a question. I haven’t said my question yet when she asked. (Translation: Thea, are you sick? You’re very thin.)
Then I started working. We didn’t have a weighing scale at home back then but my annual physical exams recorded my weight still plays around the same numbers — for six years or so.
Another six years passed and I’m suddenly at 56 kg. I didn’t know it would be possible for me to reach that number. Admittedly, I’ve seen the changes in my body. My small shirts needed to be large so my flabby sides won’t be seen. Or the part of my chest won’t look too tight. Many times, I needed to squeeze into my pants. A pair of 26 still fits though they can get uncomfortable within moments of the day.
So you see the dilemma? I think others have experienced the same: When I am thin, people think I need medical attention. (I know the adults back then were coming from a place of concern. Even now, I still believe they were genuinely worried about me — especially Granny.) And in general perspective, not (just) my experience, when someone gains weight, society finds it unappealing. Feels like I’m stuck in the middle of a familiar unfamiliarity.
During those younger years when people think I needed medical attention, I didn’t feel sick. I was feeling normal. I also didn’t feel weak or something was wrong with my health. I hear the comments and that’s just it. They don’t stay and drive me elsewhere. My weight is just a number, not a medical concern. I feel healthy. I felt healthy.
Not until April 29, 2026 happened.
I was laid off.
On my penultimate day of taking time off from work, there was a meeting invite on my work calendar — that if someone didn’t ask me about severance pay computation, I wouldn’t have known.
Because why would I know? I won’t open my work profile. That day, the next day, which is a holiday, and the weekend after it were supposed to be days for me to enjoy and to free my head of work. Not for crying for losing the job I’ve been “loyal” to for almost seven years. Not days to doom scroll to search for the next job to land.
Yes — I immediately looked for opportunities the morning I confirmed there’s a meeting on my calendar. Yes — before the 6 pm meeting happened. Yes — that’s what I’ve done for almost two months.
In those two months, I’ve seen my weight drop fast. I’d weigh 56.7 kg then after almost a week, I’m quickly down to 55.05 kg. The largest drop I’ve seen was almost two kilograms in seven days: 53.75 kg down to 51.8 kg. This was in July, a week before my first day at my new work.
I lost my appetite. Even iced tea couldn’t do the trick. There were moments I would finish a glass of my favorite but I’d feel like throwing up in a few seconds.
We ate in a Japanese restaurant and I just had water (sure, I really am not into Japanese food). Then we went to a café for drinks and all I did was sit. No drink in hand. Just consuming space feeling sad.
At home was the same. If I could skip eating something the whole day, I would’ve had. But my brain told me to eat even a little. So I did. Two to three spoonfuls of rice then add some ulam (viand). Drink your water, go out later for a walk, then look for jobs again when you’re back home. Tell Nanay you won’t eat dinner anymore. Repeat. Dinner, yes? Dinner, no? You decide.
What an awful time. It felt worse than a break up.
It took almost two weeks for me to feel slightly normal with food again. Though it fluctuates. Because until now, six months after the lay off, in my third month at my new work, my new eating habits stayed.
I scoop rice less.
There are days I just want to taste the food then set it aside after a few takes (my plate will be half empty, half full).
I eat just one meal a day most of the time (with less scoops of rice — better say spoons). My new schedule contributes to this, too. I normally don’t eat breakfast. Now I don’t eat dinner, too, sometimes, because I wake up at odd hours now: 12 pm to 2 pm. I’ll be eating lunch around 3 pm or so then I’ll work from 6 pm till 3 am and just sleep after. (Well, sometimes, I get two hours of scrolling before dozing.)
It’s either I’ll lose the time to eat due to meetings or working, or my appetite. Especially whenever I report on-site.
But lately, I’m trying to eat more; a bit. I go out after eating lunch at home to spend some time in a café to read, eat some snacks, and drink my iced tea as an exchange for dinner time.
And no. I don’t feel physically sick. I still feel the same. Though I definitely know how much of an unhealthy combo these all are.
My latest numbers are 48 kg. To be exact, 48.5 kg. That was 10 days ago. I’ll revisit the scale when I wake up later — that is if I remember.
Somehow, this sounds bad (no, it’s really bad. Horrendous), but I think of this part as a silver lining. It’s the one good thing that came out of the lay off.
I can now easily wear and button my pairs of pants now. I was aiming for that prior to the lay off because I don’t want to buy new pairs anymore (duh, I wear Levi’s). Less cost for me. However, my other pants are now showing a big vacuum when I pull the front of the waist away from me. I’ll prolly buy a new belt instead. Cheaper than a pair of Levi’s.
And sometimes, when I look at my tummy in the mirror, I see an 11.
God. I’ve been wanting to have visible abs for the longest time now.
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