Megan Zander

Perhaps the reason I’m so self-conscious about people seeing my ankles is that I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that the scars were my own fault. My father has severe addiction issues, along with a temper that would make Cruella de Vil cower. Rationally, I know he was probably half asleep and high as a kite when he made me that bowl of soup. Still, a part of me has always felt that I must have done something to deserve what happened.

Even though I love how I look in those picture-perfect selfies, I love the less than flawless photos too, and I’m not going to stop sharing them.

Like 7.5 million other Americans, I have depression with a side of anxiety disorder. But I was scared to follow the traditional treatment plan of adding an anti-depressant to my breakfast, so I decided to try treating my conditions with acupuncture instead.

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At first I got angry. I’m supposed to be the love of his life, the Rachel to his Ross.