When we put out a call inviting people to share their experiences with body shaming, whether it stemmed from weight, height, skin colour, or any other aspect of appearance, the responses were deeply personal. Many wrote back and opened up. And almost every story carried the quiet weight of words that had lingered far longer than they were ever meant to. Among them was Kritty Gahatraj, a Delhi-based PR professional, who spoke with honesty about what it meant to grow up being labelled the 'fat kid' and how those seemingly casual remarks shaped her relationship with herself for years. "Growing up, I was often labelled the ‘fat kid’ in school corridors, classrooms and sometimes even in casual conversations among friends. At the time, many of those remarks were brushed
off as jokes, but comments about someone’s body rarely disappear as easily as they are spoken. They stay with you," she says. Her story is a reminder of how body shaming seeps in through small, everyday interactions, the offhand comment from a relative, the comparison with a slimmer cousin, the unsolicited advice disguised as concern. "People would casually ask things like, ‘What’s wrong with her?’ or ‘Are you developing thyroid?’ or suggest that I needed to control my diet", "Most of these remarks were said without much thought, but they stayed with me," she recalled. And those words began to shape how she saw herself.Like many who internalise such scrutiny, Kritty turned to control. During the COVID-19 pandemic, she became intensely focused on losing weight. What began as a commitment to fitness slowly spiralled into something far more consuming. "I started obsessing over calories, sometimes eating as little as 600–700 calories a day while working out intensely. At one point, it led to disordered eating patterns… I was terrified of gaining weight again."The transformation was visible but so was the toll. "I lost a lot of weight and even my health started deteriorating. I looked pale and exhausted." What stayed with her wasn’t just the physical strain, but the realisation of how powerful and damaging those early comments had been. This is where body shaming often does its deepest harm. It doesn’t just affect how someone looks, it reshapes how they think, feel and measure their worth. Even after losing weight, Kritty found herself dealing with body dysmorphia, still seeing herself through the lens of those old labels. "For a long time, my self-worth felt tied to how I looked," she said.ALSO READ: ‘Fat People Do Not Take Up Extra Space – We Claim Our Space In Society’ — Anindita RoyBut her story doesn’t end there. With time, her perspective began to shift from perfection to balance. "I started focusing on myself not just as a body but as a person, emotionally, academically and professionally. I realised that confidence cannot come from constantly trying to match someone else’s definition of the ‘perfect body.’"Today, she speaks with a clarity that comes from having lived through both ends of that spectrum. If she could go back and speak to her younger self, she would say, "Be kinder to yourself and don’t internalise every passing opinion. People will always have something to say, but their perspective does not define your worth."That awareness has also shaped how she interacts with others. In a culture where commenting on someone’s body is often normalised and even trivialised, Kritty is intentional about choosing empathy over judgement. "Words carry far more weight than we often realise," she said. "Sometimes, simply choosing not to comment on someone’s body is the kindest thing you can do."By telling stories like Kritty’s, the hope is to gently shift the conversation from casual judgement to conscious empathy and from appearance to acceptance. Because what may seem like a fleeting remark to one person can become a lifelong echo for another.

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