The Day I Stopped Hating My Body

Trigger Warning: Eating Disorders

For years, I thought a smaller frame was the only way to be beautiful. I spent my days crying over the weight that failed to disappear. Months of starvation and hatred kept playing across like a broken record. I was so caught up in this cycle of deception, how food was a source of despair and punishment. So I pushed myself to the limit.

I got so many compliments at work when I lost 80 pounds, but little did they know it was a cry for help. I was under the disgusting notion that prettier meant smaller. How years of bullying made me think my body was a cursed territory. I know this may sound ridiculous, but I am now 24 years old and I can still hear my high school bullies call me a ‘pig’. So I thought being skinny was the only way to be respected. 

Until one day I starved myself so badly I ended up in an emergency room, barely strong enough to walk. My doctor said at the rate I was going, I could die. And for once, being beautiful wasn’t worth it. What is beauty when you are a corpse?

Then it all hit me: I tortured the very vessel that kept me alive.

So on that night, I prayed for forgiveness. I apologized to my body with every ounce of love I had left. Now years of hatred is met with kindness.

I am now 30 pounds heavier, but I love my body. I am not apologizing for the space it takes up. Each footstep is a reminder that I deserve love just like everyone else. How food is not the enemy, rather fuel to keep me alive.

I no longer hate myself. For there is nothing wrong with my body. I deserve all the love I give and take. My beauty transcends the space I take. Thus, my beloved body, you will always be good enough.