I'm human. But overall, whenever I see anyone being made fun of or given a hard time, I rush to their defense. I want to help them because I know how it feels.

I already knew to eat clean and listen to my body, to only eat when I was in a calm mental state. Everyone knew. But when you're fat in the head, it's never about knowing the answers. It's about living them.

When we die, no one remembers us for what we weighed. Our weight isn't etched into our headstones.

I hated the reflection in the mirror. I wanted so much to be someone else... I thought that if I was thinner, the rest of my life would change.

I'm human. But overall, whenever I see anyone being made fun of or given a hard time, I rush to their defense. I want to help them because I know how it feels.

I can trace every romance of my life back to a meal. My memories are enhanced by the tender morsels had at tables across from lovers, on blankets with friends who'd eventually become more, in banquets, barbecues, and breakfasts.

My therapist told me I need to learn to love myself. It sounds easy enough, but really, how do you just wake up one day and learn that? It feels like something you should just do involuntarily, like swallowing or blinking, but now I have to work on it. It feels so forced. I mean, I know I went to a good school, and people tell me I'm smart and creative, but I don't KNOW that. I don't know how to make myself feel that.