Me (16): So I’ve been feeling tired and bad lately, sup with me

Doctor: Hmm, we’ll do blood tests, but you’re probably getting diabetes, you have a high BMI [I think it was… ~28 back then?]. Have you considered going on a diet?

Me: Actually I’ve been dieting for a couple weeks [Mum made me]

Doc: Mkay so go get blood drawn and we’ll see. But I’m pretty sure it’s diabetes.

*2 weeks later, with blood tests results*

Doc: Umm so your blood sugar is ok

Me: Yeah ok so why aint I ok

Doc: Anemia

Me: …

Doc: Take these iron pills

Me: …

Doc: And maybe stop the diet

Me: …

*5 years later*

Dad, to my skinny sis: You’re getting chubby, you should start exercising!

Sis: *Goes on feminist rant about body image that made me very very proud*

Me: Tell that to mum, she seems obsessed with getting me to diet

Mum: But I actually think you’d be not only prettier, but HEALTHIER!

In short, the doctor is a total nutjob (I haven’t been there after that, besides the anemia that never really went away I’m quite the healthy fatty), my sister is awesome, my dad has a hellhole for a mouth and my mum’s long-term memory is a wreck.

I love my parents, it’s just… so exhausting sometimes. I KNOW I’m prone to diabetes (dad’s side has it), but I don’t really think being skinnier would help. And I’m starting to realize that most of my body related insecurities come from them. I’ve been away for almost 3 years and I’d never felt so confident, which must mean something.

So I guess thin privilege is not having your family make you go on a diet that makes you anemic (and seriously, I STILL AM) then forget and tell you you’d be healthier if you weren’t so fat.