A Letter to my Younger Self

This week, body image has been at the forefront of my mind. We had an open discussion in one of my classes about the sad reality of the culture we live in and the pressure that is put on us to look a certain way. As a response my professor encouraged me to write a letter to my younger self about my body. I hope reading this can be a cathartic experience for you like it is for me. 

Dear Younger Me, 

I have spent this week thinking a lot about you, grieving for you, and wishing someone had been there to protect you. 

I think I know why you started to think you were fat. When your doctor, a medical professional, tells you year after year that you are fat and unhealthy, you believe them. I am so sorry they treated you like that. 

I think I know why you struggled so much with your body. It is traumatic when you think your mom is the most beautiful person in the world, and she is constantly pinching, squishing, and hating her own body. If the most beautiful person in the world doesn’t think she’s beautiful, then you thought there was no way you could think you’re beautiful. 

I think I know why food is a coping mechanism for you. Every other weekend, when you were forced into your dad’s car despite the tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, food was the only thing in his house that could comfort you. 

I think I know why you used restriction as a form of self harm. You would deny yourself food because sometimes those hunger pains were the only thing you could feel. Being hungry all day offered a release and a distraction from the emotional and mental pain that you were suffering. I am so sorry that you felt like you were only worthy when you went to bed hungry. 

I think I know why you hate your body. Walking through the mall and listening to your mom laugh at the plus size mannequins takes a toll on your fragile mind. Having your grandma tell you that your jeans are looking a little tight hurts. As much as you tried to ignore them, their words hurt you. 

I think I know why you don’t prioritize yourself. When your doctor wanted you to start antidepressants, you didn’t want to because one of the side effects was weight gain. And you were scared your mom wouldn’t love you if you were a few pounds heavier. You wanted to choose to continue to suffer in exchange for a pound or two. 

I think I know why you compare yourself to everyone. Listening to your mom tell you that your sisters “would be so much prettier if they lost some weight” messes with your head. If she talks about them behind their backs, what is she saying about you? 

It is not your fault. Food is not the enemy. Your body is not the enemy. You are so much more than your body. You are kind, empathetic, smart, loving, and so much more. 

It breaks my heart that no one was there to protect you. I grieve for the woman you could have been. But we are stronger now because of everything we have been through. 

I know things are rough for you right now. But I promise you, we get out. We escaped. We are by no means perfect, but we are so much better. 

I love you. Please try to love you too, 

Your Future Self

• bodydismorphia
• bodyimage
• dietculture
• health
• weight