Ever since I started puberty, I have struggled with body positivity and eating.
A few weeks ago, I went to my doctor to get my anxiety meds refilled.
However, she decided to make the entire appointment about my weight.
I sat in silence trying to not to cry.
She said I gained too much over the course of this year.
In case you're wondering, 10 pounds is too much.
Of course, I noticed the weight gain. I am known for my intense self examinations.
Yet, I thought this weight gain made me look more like a woman. Full figure. I adored my body.
I am healthy. A pescatarian. I exercise. No life altering conditions.
Just 10 pounds from taking birth control.
By the end of the appointment, my doctor took me off the pill and preceded to give me a pregnancy test because I Iooked "pudgy".
Needless to say, I changed my doctor and tried to forget the appointment.
Unsuccessful, I started skipping lunch and wearing looser, black clothing to appear skinnier.
Needing some retail therapy, I decided to go shopping with my best friend. She is society's idea of beautiful. Tiny. Skinny.
My best friend wanted to buy matching sweaters for a cute holiday picture.
Sadly, we could not find my size.
We decided against the sweaters. I frowned.
She told me I'm beautiful just the way I am.
But I could only hear the word "skinny".
We continued to shop but I could no longer enjoy myself.
Instead, I obsessed over the sizes on clothing tags.
Slim. Petite. Small. Xtra Small. Tiny.
When did "1/2" even become a size?
Counting calories. Choosing water instead of food.
Yet again, I have been persuaded to believe that the formula to increasing my self worth lies within the numbers of the nutritional facts label.
The thought of being tiny, skinnier consumes me.
He tells me I am perfect the way I am. He says he prefers thick girls.
Yesterday, I put up my miniature Christmas tree.
Trimmed it with beautiful, tiny tinsel.
