I love my body! Call me vain, call me arrogant, call me a bitch. I don’t care. I’ve got every right to love every single part of who I am, from my stretchmarks, to my hips, to the mole on my right shoulder. It’s all mine, and it’s all beautiful. But before you go jumping to conclusions, this self-love isn’t something I had the privilege of being born with. It didn’t come to me overnight, and it still threatens to slip away from me on occasions. This self-love has come to me after over a decade of self-hate and self-abuse in the form of an eating disorder. It was a hard won love.
My new body is probably the hardest part about recovery. Because I have been in my eating disorder for a long time, I got stretchmarks that seemed to appear overnight, cellulite I previously thought was something only older people got and fat in places that honestly made me cry. I struggled with these new additions for quite a while and still do. One year of therapy has helped me to overcome many fears, traumatic experiences and the image that I have to my body and Bulimia, Still... I have to work with myself in many ways to not let "the bad" thoughts into my head; because I'm more than enough, not only physically but mentally too.