As I pick out my outfit I picture all my flaws in each piece of clothing as I slowly tear my closet apart. When I finally pick something perfect to wear, I start my makeup.
Yet, it takes me hours to actually begin because I am standing in front of my mirror wondering how much makeup I have to put on to keep the illusion that I wake up looking like this.
Taking one step into my cousin’s house and the attack already begins. Grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles all come to rally against me.
With each comment, I feel less secure in my body. They comment on the grayness of my hair, the paleness of my skin and that my perfectly picked outfit turns out to have many flaws.
Although their attention span wanes awfully fast, their comments stick with me for years.
Whether the comments are meant to be harmless, they leave invisible scars for me to carry everyday.
Then comes the calvary of food. Out comes the turkey and the gravy along with my grandma’s signature side dishes.
They comment on the grayness of my hair, the paleness of my skin and that my perfectly picked outfit turns out to have many flaws.
— Ava Chun ’25
Now if you know anything about me, it should be that I’m a foodie. I’ve had a love and comfort for food ever since I can remember.
But seeing all the food pile up on the table. I become less and less hungry. I feel the phantom calories weighing me down as I scan the never ending table.
I grab only a few scoops of food but I’m stopped by my grandma encouraging me to put more on my plate. I give in and add my actual desired meal on the plate but I’m stopped by my uncle on the way to the table. My uncle looks at my plate with disgust and utters a sarcastic “You’re gonna eat all that?” As he walks over to get his third plate of food.
After eating pounds and pounds of food, I cross my arms to hide the food baby that had grown. My arms will not leave this position til I leave this house.
Saying goodbye couldn’t come faster as we stopped to take a family picture. I shift uncomfortably as we try to fit 20 people in one photo.
I try to look my best although I know it’ll only be seen by my grandma’s four followers. Until we’re finally in the car once again. I fall asleep to my sisters laughing about my cousin’s new hair and think about how I can improve myself for next year’s gathering.
