Sometimes I wish I could go back,
to that moment in time, that changed my outlook and perspective on things, such as appearances and maintaining face.

To the time when I envied my bestfriend who was skinner and prettier than me in year 5, to when my auntie told me I was gaining weight, to the moments when I would belittle other people based on their appearances; the fat kid with no friends, to the frecklie one with red hair and the pale one with no eyelashes. This contempt for judging a book from its cover stemmed from jealousy and was deep rooted from the early days that I would watch gorgeous women on tv, living lives that I could only dream of at the expense of lesser, more marginalised, average looking characters. It was provoked by those perfectly toned and sculpted bodies that used to appear on Rage saturday mornings in music videos where they’d shake what their mamma gave them. If I, was not exposed and brought up by this vile way of thinking, if I hadn’t made myself vulnerable to insecurities; if I had just felt comfortable in my own skin; I would not have felt feel the need to ridicule others, to make up for my own lack of confidence and jealousy.

oh, if only I could go back.