I have subscribed to the pervasive diet culture that exists in the United States for my entire adolescent and adult life. As a one hundred and fifteen pound teenager, I believed myself fat. My body, though I see now in the rearview mirror of age, was beautiful even by society's standards, became a loathsome enemy very early on. I compared myself to magazines and movies and friends. Everyone was always thinner and more beautiful. Everyone had clearer skin and a skinnier waist and thinner thighs. I was an attractive enough girl...and then woman. I wasn't "ugly" per se, but I was less than. Within each decade of my life, there seemed to be some magical (and unattainable) number on the scale that held the holy grail of "enough". If I could just get to that number...120, 125, 130, 135...then everything would be great. I'd be thin enough, pretty enough, fashionable enough... I'd be enough. As I got older, especially once I had kids, that "...
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