I have been thinking about my body a lot lately. I think it's because I've been spending a lot of time alone, and so I have time to scrutinize. Usually, when I sit down to write my weekly article, I write whatever is on my heart in that particular moment. It's not always the most popular article, but it is one of the most lovely and cathartic things I do for myself every week. So here goes- a string of thoughts and reminisces about my body. Why not, right?

I remember it well: I was standing sideways in front of my mirror, scowling, for what seemed like an eternity. My shirt was pulled up past my belly button, and the sticky note that hung above me and read "Your status should not be defined by your waist size" now seemed mocking.

I commenced bargaining with my body, as so many of us do.

"If I could just get rid of this little pooch here, I would be so happy."

"If only my cheeks weren't so big, I bet I would take great pictures."

This was part of my daily routine, so I'm not sure why it happened- but as I stood, and sucked in, and pleaded, and shamed myself over and over for the ice cream and bread in my life, I suddenly realized that I was completely miserable. I had slowly let my BMI become the sole definition of my worth. It had gotten to the point where if I even saw skinnier people in daily life or on social media, I immediately felt ashamed of myself and scolded my habits. I stopped Snapchatting because I didn't like how big my cheeks looked. Looking back, it makes sense that this became my life- every single time I looked in the mirror, an angry and disapproving person looked back at me. "Well, you just had to have dessert, didn't you? You deserve this body."

I felt so frustrated and trapped, but I couldn't figure out why. And then one day it hit me: I was my biggest bully. I had single-handedly torn apart my self-esteem by critiquing every single aspect of myself until there was nothing left for me to love, and nobody there to love it for me because I certainly didn't love myself. Even going to the gym six days a week and seeing progress frustrated me because I think what I was really seeking was my own approval.

Being trapped inside my head was a terrible blow to my self-confidence, but honestly, once I realized my problem, it made for a pretty easy fix. Most people can't avoid bullies, but I had the power to change the dialogue of mine. And for a long time, it was an all-out war. Every compliment I allowed myself was met with the opposition of "Well aren't we feeling arrogant today? No wonder no one likes you." I would go to sleep praying that in the morning I would finally be okay with myself.

Actually, that's kind of what happened.

One morning, I woke up and scrambled to the mirror (as I did every day). I began to lift my shirt, and suddenly I decided against it. Instead, I made a horrible face at myself. I'm talking the whole nine years here: double chin, crossed eyes, and an underbite- and then held it. I waited, but the mean thoughts didn't come. Instead, I busted out laughing. I continued on to breakfast, circumventing my usual routine of obsessing over every imperfection on my body.

Here is what I've decided: the less seriously we take our own scrutiny, the happier we will find ourselves. These days, when I have my insecure moments, or I'm afraid to go to the gym because I don't want to look out of shape, I roll my eyes at the voice in my head. I do not give that bitch a second thought. What does she know? She has nothing nice to say. She will never be reasonable or positive.

I no longer define my body as a shape, or a size, or a type. I am just myself. Of course, I am eating healthy and exercising, because I want to live to 100 and see my great-grandchildren get married. But gone are the days of wondering why I don't look like a photoshopped supermodel.

The voice in my head still says "You deserve this body." But now it is empowering. You know what? You're damn right I do. I exercise, and I eat vegetables, and darn it, this dress looks great on me. I am young, resilient, able-bodied, and content. No, I am not the same size I was in high school (I mean...duh). But that is to be expected- these chubby cheeks come from four years of late night ice cream runs. From wine and bachelor nights. From birthday parties, engagement celebrations, and post-final reward french fries. And I have to say, I am in love with that "me" so much more than the size 2 me.

I'm Christina. I have a killer gym playlist and an hourglass shape, and yes thank you, I would like an order of cheese fries.