I stand at 5’4’’ and usually wear a 10 in dress sizes. I have never had a thigh gap in my life. It’s not unusual for me to have to get an XL top from Forever 21, an L from Urban Outfitters, an M from Ann Taylor Loft, and an S at the Gap. I have never felt confident in a swimsuit on a beach. For most of middle and high school, I actively hated my body.

I believe I was nine years old when I first started thinking I was fat. At that time, I wasn’t even slightly overweight. I should have been worrying about what book to read next or what game to play at recess, not the size on the tags of my clothes. When my friends started becoming interested in boys, my body image got worse. I began to think that the only way I would be attractive to boys was if I was skinny. I hated that I couldn’t comfortably wear the same skintight clothes as other girls I knew. I saw myself as ugly and I thought that no one would ever find me attractive

In high school, I would constantly refute compliments and make self-deprecating statements. I wasn’t fishing for compliments--I honestly believed the negative thoughts swirling through my mind. I thought that I was physically nothing and I focused all my energy on taking care of others rather than taking care of myself. During my senior year, I started making friends with other groups of girls in my grade. As we grew closer, I realized that the girls whose bodies I would have killed for felt insecure about their bodies too, just like me. Many of the girls I talked to seemed to feel like they had to look a certain way to please guys.* It was a common consensus that guys only liked girls who had the exact right amount of curves, but were also very thin, which seemed to be a profoundly rare, mostly unrealistic body type. This helped me realize that I should focus on being healthy and feeling comfortable in my skin rather than conforming to a false societal standard to please someone else. Over time, I stopped hating my body. I started to acknowledge small things about my physical appearance and my personality that I liked: my hair, my kindness, my complexion, and my ability to make fun of myself.

It is still a daily struggle. It’s hard being one of the bigger girls in my sorority. It’s hard to remember all the progress when in college, guys at parties approach my friends, most of whom are thinner than me, but seem to ignore me. It’s hard when most advertisements feature women with unattainable bodies. It’s hard when our culture perpetuates the idea that a woman has to be thin to be beautiful (let alone white, which is ridiculously unfair to women of color, who are stunning without conforming to the European idea of beauty). Despite these setbacks, I try to remind myself that I am worth so much more than my body image. I am smart, I work hard, and I am a loving person. Just because I’m not thin does not mean I’m not beautiful. It goes both ways, too. Girls who are naturally thin are criticized for looking “anorexic.” We need to stop determining women’s worth by their sizes. It is important to try to treat our bodies well, but it is also important to have a healthy view of ourselves. Whether you are a size 00 or a size 24, you don’t have to let your weight deter you from loving yourself. When you can love yourself, you can let other people love you. I definitely wouldn’t say I love myself yet, but after 10 years, I’m finally on the right path.

*This story refers to heterosexual relationships and the expectations men have for women in terms of those relationships in the author’s personal experience. The author acknowledges that these conventions may be similar or different when referring to LGBTQ relationships.