Content warning: All about bodies, exercise, and diet.
I know without a doubt, without anyone having to tell me, that I have severe body dysmorphia. When people tell me I’m petite or tiny or have a small frame, I scoff and wonder why they feel the need to boldface lie to me. I wonder how they sleep at night telling a clearly overweight, thick, chubby girl that she’s small. “Have they seen my stomach?” I think to myself with disgust. “They’re delusional.”
But I know I’m the delusional one.
And I come by it honestly; we all do.
I don’t want to take up space in this letter writing about the impossible beauty standards that are forced on women of every age, shape, race, and creed. Every one of you reading this is (unfortunately) grossly familiar with it all, so I won’t waste our time going over the many ugly realities of just trying to exist as a woman.
What I want to spend time doing is sharing my own body journey with whoever’s willing to read about it.