The other day, I was flicking through my photo album and cringing at my earlier and youthful pictures. These pictures are a testimony of my archives of time which have mercifully whizzed by.

When I looked at these pictures, I mean, truly looked at myself, I saw a young girlchild on the brink of uncertainity and insecurity. You only had to study my body language in my stilted and forced poses to really capture of how I ultimately felt about my body image.

See, as an emerging adolescent, I always had issues with my body. I was athletic back then. I was the number one runner in my year. Additionally, I took part in gymnastics and the top shelf in my living room at home was a testament to the prizes that validated my gracefulness and skills within this field.

However, I was skinny as a rake, without the prerequisite breasts ; I was only a size 30AA cup! In fact, my socks became my substitute breasts and subsequently, my best (breast?) companions, as I failed abysmally to fit in with the 'biggy titty committee in high school. My friends and I always passed secret memos around for tips on making them 'bigger'. The best tip was consuming dairy products. Yes, I know, I was young! Fortunately, I wasn't lactose tolerant. But alas, it didn't work. So much for adolescent advice.
See, ultimately, I wanted to emulate the 'thickness' of my peers, but always got called out on my skinny, but athletic,body frame. I was the butt of all jokes in my year. I tried to integrate and become 'popular' with the clique, but somehow I failed. Nonetheless, I loved to dance. This is where I gained some of my popularity at least.
In fact, I went to an open audition for a dance school - because, back in the day I wanted to be a choreographer - and I got in! But try and translate this to a strict, disciplinary African mother who had her eyes clearly peeled on the academic prize. Suffice to say, I didn't accept the the offer.

Anyway, I knew I was skinny, and paradoxically, to fit in with my classmates at school, I felt that the only way that I could control my body was to starve myself - although, as I mentioned earlier on, I wanted to fit in with my curvy schoolmates. Ahhh! the wistfulness,naivety and sweet odour of youth!

However, the 'starving' of myself was a constant defeat in my household. Try starving yourself with an African mama!Mission completely impossible.

Anyway, I was in my creative writing class the other day, and we had to do a 'free write' on

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