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I miss my old body, I wasn’t healthy, I wasn’t happy. But at least I was a size 4, right?
It all started when I was in primary, just before hitting puberty I gained some weight, as a very skinny child growing up this became very noticeable, not only to myself, but also to others.
I still have nightmares about when that one in my class poked fun at me, for my weight. I must have been ten at the time when a boy I went to school with made a very mean comment in front of all my classmates.
His words, forever stuck in my head, would echo to me as I pulled on my skin and pointed out all of what was wrong with my body.
At 17, I would skip breakfast, give away my school lunch and struggle as I sat down for dinner while my parents asked why I wasn’t eating.
I wanted to punish myself, I felt unworthy of food and out of control, so out of control, the only control I could have was over my food intake.
Once I got to uni things just got worse. And, of course, whenever I went back home, I would get sat down by everyone that cared about me asking if I was okay and giving me a pep talk about how I needed to love myself and all that “your body is a temple” bullshit.
I insisted I was fine, and for a bit, even convinced myself that it wasn’t that bad, that not eating was okay.
Nowadays I can’t even look at the pictures of myself at that time.
But, somehow, I still get upset when I don’t fit into my old jeans or when a top looks different from what it used to. Somehow my brain still goes back to that moment when a ten-year-old boy poked fun at me.
And I shed tears over my old body, the body that wasn’t healthy, the body that had people who love me worried sick.
But that’s when I remember, I may not love my new breasts, I may have cellulite or stretch marks. But all of this means I am a healthy, happy version of myself. And it is all worth it just because of that.
Featured Image Credit: Pexels
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