weight

When the spread was published, all the girls in the shot were small — small enough to notice their not-bigness. It was the first time I felt “othered,” the first time I noticed how some versions of thin weren’t thin enough.

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A bipolar, body-positive bread enthusiast with a fucked-up ankle and a history of disordered eating chronicles health, weight-loss,

This week is baking week. No, not nationally or anything, but in my house, this week is the week all the things are made.

Most days I am confident with how I look and how I feel, but I worry I may never be able to completely banish those thoughts about my flaws and imperfections. I know that every time you catch me focusing on my physical insecurities, you learn a lesson that could hurt you, or force you into this battle I face.

Here’s something that isn’t rocket science either, Stephen Hawking: Diets don’t work.

When I’m in the company of family, my strongly held beliefs about positive body image, my carefully honed confidence that I am more than numbers on a scale, my uncompromising rebellion against the patriarchy and its arbitrary rules for women’s sexuality, crumbles into a fine dust that blows away with one heavy sigh.

Sure, it's ridiculous to compare your life to a poorly constructed, absolutely terrifying rollercoaster — but also sadly accurate.