The Syndrome That Made Me Question My Femininity
The hormonal imbalances and side effects pushed me into a spiral of shame
“Let me see, mija. Come here,” requested my favorite aunt in a soft voice. I begrudgingly got up from the tile floor where I was lying next to my cousin while we ate mango raspados six inches from a box fan on full blast. It was our preferred way to assuage the unforgiving heat of the San Fernando Valley’s hottest summer days. “Bring that chair and sit right here,” she instructed. She and my mother began examining my neck. They went back and forth for a while about whether or not what they were looking at was dirt. “She just needs to scrub harder when she showers,” my aunt finally concluded. I couldn’t see my face, but I suspected it had turned the shade of pink it always did every time I felt really embarrassed. I could tell because my cheeks suddenly felt hot, and my mom gave me her “it’s okay” forehead kiss when she saw my expression.
That was the second time I found out something was wrong with my body. It was 2002, and I was 10 years old. By that time, my mind was already constantly preoccupied with different strategies I could use to lose weight. Though she was hesitant, my mom had started letting me occasionally replace meals with Slim Fast shakes she used as part of her own weight loss regimen. That was…
