Ten years old.

I was ten years old the day I decided I wasn't skinny enough.

I was at recess in fifth grade, and a boy told me he could see my tummy and made a face of disgust. I was playing basketball and had jumped while shooting the ball-- my navy blue shirt uncovering the little pudge I hadn't yet grown into. I remember the exact outfit I was wearing. I remember the boys name. I remember the look on his face, and I remember embarrassingly leaving mid-game to cry to my friend, Lauren, who was playing four square by the fifth grade door.

I was ten years old the first time I realized it really, truly mattered to me what people thought of the way I looked.

I was ten years old when I began refusing to eat meat at dinner. My parents didn't understand, and they only wanted me to grow up healthy. I was too young to understand how it might affect my growth, but I would sit at the table all night long if I had to. I simply refused to eat it.

I lost a lot of weight immediately. Sixth grade through eighth grade I cared way too much about what other people thought of me and the way I looked became an obsession. My mom would pack me lunch everyday. A healthy lunch. Generally consisting of a veggie sandwich, a snack of some sort- pretzels usually, a drink, a fruit and a small treat. I'd often throw everything away, allowing myself only an apple the entire day. My friends would ask questions, and I'd meticulously cut the apple in a hundred tiny pieces, the exact same way every day. When the questions became too difficult for me to answer, I'd switch lunch tables for a few days.

After school, I would walk to the Rite Aid down the road from my house. I'd save up to buy a bottle of $50 diet pills that would leave me light headed and feeling as though I was spinning. They promised to take away my hunger and shrink the size of my waist, and at such a young age, I bought into it. I knew how bad it was for my heart and my development, but I didn't care.

I often wondered if my parents ever noticed or if they simply wanted to pretend it wasn't happening. I wondered if they thought it was just a phase. I wondered if they thought sweeping it under the rug was going to make it all go away. Did they understand how much time I spent thinking about food? How much water I drank to keep my belly full and free of moans? Did they know that my thoughts of food and exercise were completely invading my life and consuming my thoughts? Did my friends notice how thin my legs and arms were? Did anyone care?

It was the end of middle school, early high school when I began recognizing the ways my eating habits were taking a tole on my body. I was extremely accident prone. I had more broken bones, sprains, muscle strains, asthma attacks and instances where I would literally keel over from being over-worked than I could afford. My body couldn't handle the training it was being put through being a three sport athlete because I wasn't getting the proper nutrients. I wasn't fueling my body to be successful on the court or field.

I'm sure many of my teammates didn't understand. I'd fall over after a series of sprints, and they'd think, I'm sure, that I was being over-dramatic. I knew they had no idea what I was putting my body through, but it had become ritual for me and it was all a routine. I couldn't stop. My coaches had no idea, nor did I think they really cared.

I did, however, have one coach that did. Coach Tom. He was my travel soccer coach for three years. He had had to call the ambulance for me probably four times total due to asthma attacks, but the fourth time was different. I collapsed, and as I laid there blue in the face, he cried holding up my head. He was sure I would die that day.

I don't know why that wasn't my wake up call. I don't know how I continued to show up to practice each day knowing I had thrown up my meal or hadn't finished it earlier that day. I knew it scarred him seeing me so lifeless. But it seemed like everyone else was simply ignoring my struggle. I think deep down I wanted my parents to notice and shift their focus away from the normal struggles of their marriage and instead to what it was I was battling inside my own head.

When I left for college, I felt like I didn't have to hide anymore. I didn't have any of my high school friends assessing every move I made, every bite I took, counting how many times I chewed before swallowing. Nobody would question why I never wanted my food to touch, or why I needed a new fork for each part of my meal. I'd joke around and play it off by saying "I know it's so weird! I've always been like this!" And no one would question me.

Late into my sophomore year is when my more sedentary lifestyle really caught up with me. I wasn't playing sports anymore and my metabolism was slowing down a bit. I gained a little weight and sunk deeper into the self destruction of nit picking every minor detail of my body. I'd go through spurts of working out, and I'd lose weight just to gain it again. I'd be so focused on the number on the scale, but it fluctuated so much that my emotions were equally as unstable.

I was 21 the next time I clearly remember being devastated by someone's words regarding my waist line. A friend for whom I cared deeply bought me a 21-day workout/diet plan, promising to do it with me to hold each other accountable. It was something I truly wanted to do, but I did feel like my friend was being a little pushy. After day one, that friend "gave up", which was when I realized that friend had never had the intention of finishing the whole 21 days with me, rather simply tricked me into doing it because they couldn't appreciate how I looked on the outside. It hurt. It still does to this day. I think of it often, but this was also when I realized there are so many things that are 'uglier' than a little extra weight carried around on your tummy.

Manipulation. Dishonesty. Self-centeredness. Shallowness. There are many things that are so much uglier than being "fat". For once in my life I became more focused on what I looked like on the inside than what I looked like on the outside. Which is where my health journey began.

I realized health begins with your state of mind. Confidence. Positivity. Perseverance. Dedication. Your outlook on the world. As soon as I made significant changes in the way I viewed myself and who I was on the inside, becoming someone new on the outside was easy.

I began to recognize the importance of not just taking care of my mind and my perspective, but I realized it was important to take care of my heart, my stomach, my lungs, my muscles, my digestive system-- my BODY. The insides. Over the years of my mental transformation, I had developed a different appreciation for a vegetarian diet. I always loved animals and whole-heartedly disagreed with the treatment of them from a young age. I stuck with the meat-free way of life but began experimenting and for the first time ever, consciously decided to put the proper nutrients into my body to fuel a healthy mind, body and spirit, and I did so by creative experiment with foods.

I began a more regular sleeping schedule. I worked out at the same times every day, often twice a day, but the difference this time was that I was doing it because I FELT better, not because I LOOKED better.

I enjoy cooking. I enjoy experimenting. And I even enjoy working out. For the last month I have been training for a half marathon. For the first time since varsity basketball, I have been able to run 10-miles straight. I have stopped focusing on what my body looks like and instead, what it can do for me. I generally run 4+ miles a day. I eat regular meals. Each day, I get enough protein, and I simply feel better. I lift more and run faster and farther than I have been able to in a very long time, and I am proud. My goal isn't a number on the scale, it's a feeling.

I was once unsatisfied by the size of my legs and arms in the photo above, not the same kind of unsatisfied I am today-- because it is unhealthy, but because I wasn't skinny enough.

I was once unsatisfied with my size because in the photo above, my collarbone wasn't as visible as I'd wanted. My ribs weren't as apparent as what I wanted.

In these days that I was starving myself and destroying my body, I never once thought I was good enough. Skinny enough. Pretty enough. I never believed I was enough. I don't even recognize myself in those photos anymore. That isn't me. And I didn't deserve all that I was putting my body through.

If you ever doubt what your body is capable of, you simply need to change your mind set. Start small, but don't ever become complacent staying stagnant in your progress. Always strive to push yourself just a little further each day. You might begin by walking a mile. Day two, walk 3/4 of a mile, jog the last 1/4. For so long I believed I couldn't do it.

Well, I did do it. And I could have when I was doubting myself, but I was my own worst enemy. I fed the negativity, and I didn't give myself credit. You can do it. I promise you can. Just remember what a well-known Chinese philosopher once said:

"It doesn't matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop," -Confucius.

Just keep going. Keep making progress. Do it for you. God bless.