“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
In my fifteenth year, I started to take part in the diet movement. In my teenage years, when I wanted to be accepted, fit in, and look good, I believed that food would help me. Food—or the lack of it—would be the solution to all my problems. This thought only made things worse.
I used to go to Europe every two years as a kid, mostly for family visits. I found the culture and outspokenness of people in Europe, who were often family members or friends, to be soul crushing. 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 be frightened. 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.
Disgusted. Embarrassed. Ugly.
Now, thirty years on, it makes me feel terrible for my younger-self. I took all the criticism that these…