For the record, I’ve never had a good relationship with my body.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve had what you might put mildly, “body image issues.” Unfortunately, when I hit college, those “issues” manifested into a full-blown eating disorder. After about a year and a half of starving myself nearly (literally) to death, clocking in at 5’9” and 82 pounds, with a heart that was failing, I was finally, mercifully, hospitalized.
Since then, quite honestly, I’ve struggled on and off. My eating disorder has always lurked in the background, sneaking up on me when I was most vulnerable. But for the most part, I’ve become a healthy, happy, plucky member of society.
The statistics claim that one in four women will deal with an eating disorder on some level in their life, and I know that I certainly don’t know many women who I would call completely comfortable with her body. Sadly, these are mostly gorgeous, wonderful women who can’t see themselves the way that others see them.