Trigger warning: Disordered eating
It started off innocuously. As a 20-year-old, I had quickly become acquainted with the shiny stores that paved the new shopping haven that was Ion Orchard. It was a welcome (and vindictive) breath of fresh air as I emerged from the decade-long fog of cautiously walking through Bugis Street Market only to be told that I, in fact, wouldn’t find that T-shirt in my size. Over my school break that year, I tested variations of the Master Cleanse Diet—a concoction of lemon juice, cayenne pepper and maple syrup—to see what my body would react to the quickest.
Spurred on by the Tumblr collages of Nicole Richie and Hilary Duff, I lost two dress sizes. In two months, I had lost four. The change was exhilarating and Topshop’s summer fare soon became my playground. Amid a flurry of babydoll dresses, barely there crop tops and a full-blown eating disorder, the world was beginning to treat me differently. Until, at the age of 21, I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome, also known as PCOS. The prognosis seemed to hint at problems far off in the distance. “You might have difficulty conceiving,” my doctor shared. Confused yet armed with the brazen confidence of time, I filed the information away as something I would deal with later. My body, however, was changing.
“One day, under the fluorescent glare of a clothing shop floor, it all finally came to a head. I vividly remember it as the day I could no longer find my size off a rack.”
As the years went on, I developed a series of symptoms ranging from cystic acne to hirsutism. My periods had become increasingly inconsistent and eventually, my weight catapulted to twice of what it was. My eating habits followed suit. Caught in a binge and restrict cycle, both happy and hard days were underlined by the comfort of food—not because I enjoyed it, but simply because it was there. One day, under the fluorescent glare of a clothing shop floor, it all finally came to a head. I vividly remember it as the day I could no longer find my size off a rack.
While that moment remains a definitive one, I credit it as one of two things that changed my relationship with clothes. A fateful stumble upon the blog of Sheena Matheiken—an Irish-born, India-based writer and filmmaker—years before in 2009 would first introduce me to The Uniform Project. Matheiken’s ethos was simple: she had pledged to wear the same little black dress for 365days in a bid against overconsumption and waste. The challenge was in accessorising it in a myriad of ways, a task she took up with gusto and playfulness.
“It motivated me to uncover and strengthen my values pertaining to body image, identity and self in a world that rarely accounts for the sartorial identity of plus-sized women.”
Though it’s been a long time since I’ve kept up with the movement, the essence of it has stayed with me. It was the first time clothes had been portrayed as more than just a vehicle for validation, attention and attractiveness. In Matheiken’s world, they were a statement and a strong reinforcement of her beliefs. As I navigated dressing myself and a body I was constantly uncomfortable with, the idea of a ‘uniform’ stuck. This didn’t mean subjecting myself to rules or rigid expectations. It motivated me to uncover and strengthen my values pertaining to body image, identity and self in a world that rarely accounts for the sartorial identity of plus-sized women.
Aesthetic intuition
Fashion, like most things, can feel like it’s inundated with guidelines. While it’s easy to get swept up in what we should be wearing—even more so when the options are far and few between—I’ve learnt that leading the way with authenticy is the only way to get in touch with your personal style. Take the autumn/winter 2023 runways, for example. As Vogue Business reported, out of 9,137 looks across 219 shows spanning four major fashion cities, only 0.6 looks were plus-sized. Save for the grace of models like Paloma Elsesser and Precious Lee, the solidarity is far and few between. That’s why it’s important to look beyond trends. One of the first things I tried to do was to align with what I call my ‘aesthetic intuition’. For me, this looked like anything that sparked a sense of excitement in me, simply because of what it was. I consciously muted the voice that worried about what it would look like on me. Instead, I found joy in the saturated colours of a blazer or a pair of heels. I took the time to appreciate the make and material of a skirt. I revelled in the narratives and inspirations behind collections. Each piece was viewed as an entity separate to me.
Finding my uniform
Slowly, I began to start working with my body instead of against it. I tapped into what made me feel empowered and comfortable, while also being cognisant of my size 18 body. I paid close attention to the way things fit and the areas in which they billowed. Interestingly enough, a key factor in helping me navigate this was menswear. The broader silhouettes and structured separates proved versatile and statement-making. They also allowed me to explore bodycon pieces in a way I wasn’t accustomed to before. Today, a typical outfit looks like this: a structured jacket or shirt paired with a neutral T-shirt, a cinched pair of trousers, a statement loafer or heel and silver jewellery. I also consider each purchase as addition to a considered curation, one I hope to own for the rest of my life.
Forgiveness
Finally, I’ve learnt that forgiveness is active, especially when it is pertaining to how I look or feel about myself. The perfect wardrobe might help in a myriad of ways, but it is never going to take away or minimise feelings of low self-worth. When I find myself grappling with my body image, I make sure to let the negative feelings sit with me. Why do I feel this way? What’s triggering it? What is it telling me? And now, how can I forgive myself and move on? I actively thank my body for all that it does for me. And for the first time in over a decade, I feel it is finally doing the same.
The September ‘Feel the Heat’ issue of Vogue Singapore is available for sale online and on newsstands.
