I arrived in Dubai in 2007 weighing 50 kilos.
I was light then.
Not just in my body, but in how life felt.
I walked fast.
I stood straight.
I did not think much about my body.
I thought weight was only about size.
I did not know it could be about pressure.
At that time, I believed being thin meant being free.
Years passed.
Life became louder.
Work became heavier.
Responsibility grew.
Expectations followed.
I ate when I was tired.
I ate when I was stressed.
I ate when I did not want to think.
Food became a pause button.
I did not notice the change at first.
The body does not change in one day.
It changes quietly.
A little more weight.
Then more.
Then enough that I stopped checking.
When I reached 120 kilos, it did not feel sudden.
It felt normal.
That is how weight works.
It becomes part of the room.
You stop seeing it.
But you feel it.
You feel it when you sit.
You feel it when you walk.
You feel it when you avoid mirrors.
You feel it when you choose loose clothes.
You feel it when you stop running.
You feel it when you rest more than you move.
The hardest weight was not on my body.
It was inside.
It was the weight of avoiding things.
Avoiding silence.
Avoiding questions.
Avoiding responsibility.
It was easier to carry weight than to face discomfort.
The body became a place to hide.
People often think weight is about food.
For me, it was about pressure.
Pressure to succeed.
Pressure to provide.
Pressure to hold things together.
Pressure does not ask if you are ready.
It just arrives.
And when you do not know how to release pressure,
it finds a place to stay.
In my case, it stayed in my body.
As the weight increased, my world became smaller.
I said no to things without explaining why.
I stayed home more.
I moved less.
I spoke less about how I felt.
I joked instead.
I smiled instead.
Smiling is easier than explaining.
I was not lazy.
I was not careless.
I was disconnected.
Disconnected from my body.
Disconnected from discipline.
Disconnected from discomfort.
I lived inside the weight, not just with it.
At 120 kilos, I did not hate my body.
I simply stopped listening to it.
That is more dangerous.
When you stop listening, you stop learning.
This story is not about losing weight.
It is about how weight can carry meaning.
It can carry stress.
It can carry silence.
It can carry things left unfinished.
The body remembers what the mind avoids.
I arrived in Dubai at 50 kilos.
I reached 120 kilos years later.
Between those numbers was not just time.
There was pressure.
There was waiting.
There was avoidance.
And there was a quiet lesson I did not yet understand.
That weight is never only physical.
Sometimes, it is the shape of what we do not face.