Skinny ≠ happy

At my thinnest I was the most depressed. I felt the most tired, insecure, and weak. I am more comfortable in my body today at whatever weight I am than I ever was when I was peak thin.

When I was 8, my best friend and I weighed ourselves for fun. She was 70 pounds and I was 100. When I got home I told my mom because I literally felt ~cool~ like, ahead of everyone. my initial thoughts were positive and I literally did not care.

That night I was laying in bed, trying to sleep, and my dad knocks on my door, comes in and kneels beside my bed to tell me that he heard I had hit 100lbs and that I was still beautiful in his eyes and there’s things we can do to turn it around.

And that was the first time I had ever thought that there must be something wrong with my body and that I needed to fix it. And that stuck with me for years. I started my first diet at 10 and my parents put me in softball. Professional personal training in 6th grade.

(tw: ED’s. I’ll probably delete this thread)
Was pretty heavy on 8th grade but got onto a competitive softball real and started intense strength and conditioning. Started calorie restricting and seeing how long I could go without eating.

Went back to school for 9th grade and got attention and praise for how much weight I had lost. Reinforced all my bad habits. Cycled on and off for years and years. And now I can finally say again since I’ve been 8 years old, that I don’t care how much I weigh.

I spent 19 years hating my body and feeling so insecure no matter what it said on the scale, it wasn’t ever enough. But now I can say I feel free of all of that and I’m finally living my life without constantly worrying about my body and my weight and thank fucking god. Ok bye.