“For the person that needs to see this today: Your heart will heal, your tears will dry, your season will change. Rest tonight knowing the storm will end.” ~Unknown
At the age of fifteen, I began to engage in the diet world. When I was a teenager, trying to fit in and feel beautiful, as well as gain acceptance, food seemed like the answer. Food—or the lack of it—would be the solution to all my problems. All this thinking did was make things worse.
I used to go to Europe every two years as a kid, mostly for family visits. It was sometimes soul-crushing for me to experience the culture of Europe and the outspokenness that people, usually relatives or family, displayed. I understood the language, so I knew that when I would meet someone, they would inevitably say, (not in these exact words, but pretty bluntly, if I do say so myself), “She’s chubby.”
I would feel a shiver of fear. I would hide. I would want a cry.
But instead, I just smiled and pretended I didn’t understand. It was much easier to just smile at them and not show how I felt, which was horrible.
I’m embarrassed. Embarrassed. Ugly.
Now, thirty years on, it makes me feel terrible for my younger-self. I absorbed all of the criticism…