But I beat it.

And now, I see those blogs of people dying to be thinner, be prettier, be that “It” girl that all the strangers turn to look at, and I think… They hate themselves. They are so unhappy and focused on their shells that their insides are rotting away. Soon they’ll turn into hollow emptiness, whereupon when someone calls to them, it will echo echo echo down their twisted bones until the cry fades into nothingness.

Is it worth it? Is letting other’s judgments control your life worth it? You want to tell your body that everything it does for you (fueling, breathing, walking, typing, seeing, eating, drinking, bending, peeing, moving, hearing, feeling, loving, digesting, swallowing, blinking) is WORTHLESS unless it looks a certain way? Is it worth chipping away at your self-esteem every time you get a fleeting glance at your reflection? Is it worth telling yourself that you’re fat until you believe it? Is is worth all the pain, sorrow, and self-destruction, to be what you think society expects of you?

I have an answer.

No.

I am not a model. I am not perfect. I am not skin and bone. I am not without fat. I am not flat-stomached, and my thighs touch. I am not what the magazine’s consider beautiful.

But you know what I am?

Human.

And you know what’s not perfect, skin and bones, without fat, or flat-stomached? People who are worthwhile. People who deserve to feel as important as the people with the bodies the world so desperately craves.

If someone did not look like you expect yourself to look like, would you scorn them? Hate them? Tell them all the horrible, hateful words you tell yourself for “motivation”? Imagine looking someone in the face and saying:

“You are worthless. Don’t eat those chips, you’ll regret it. Stop staring at those cookies, you can’t have one. Don’t eat anymore… if you’re starving, have some celery. You didn’t run far enough, fast enough, long enough. Work harder. You are not beautiful. You are ugly. If you want to be loved, you need to look like this, and you don’t. So you are unloveable. You are so digusting and fat, and I hate how you look.”

Please. If you wouldn’t say it to someone you love, why do you say it to yourself?

Do you really not love yourself?

There’s the real problem. You can blame it on your looks, blame everything on your imperfect body, but the real problem is you and your head. You want to be happy? You want to be healthy? Look yourself in the mirror, close your eyes, imagine talking to yourself inside your mind.

Say, “I’m sorry.”

Say, “I’m sorry for hurting you over your imperfections.”

Say, “Forgive me.”

Say, “I love you.”

Say, “Together we can move on.”

And try to take yourself by the hand, hug yourself, love yourself.

If your imaginary self ran away screaming like mine did the first time I tried, stop. Take a minute to realize how horribly you’re hurting. Accept your pain, and then take a huge step… Forgive yourself. Coax your body back into true health- then fill your body, your temple, to the brim with your soul…

Don’t become a shell, left at the bottom of your own sea of hate.