these shorts used to be much looser on me.

i’ve gained a good amount of weight in the last 8 or so months and i’m still coming to terms with the fact that my body has changed. i’ve ripped jeans and broken belt loops and 75% of my dresses and bottoms no longer fit.

i’ve cried about this. avoided mirrors. toyed with “solutions” that would end with me spiraling back into old habits and jeopardizing my recovery. i haven’t restricted my eating since i was a teen, but when i see myself, i feel like that teen again.

it’s so hard to love yourself when you have unobtainable standards about what your body should look like. when i was 40 pounds lighter i wasn’t satisfied. would being emaciated again satisfy me this time around? i know the answer, but there’s a part of me that’s insisting i give it a try.

i empathize with anyone and everyone who has felt and is feeling this way. i love you and i see you and i’m holding your hand. it hurts. it hurts so much to dissect yourself and take stock of everything that’s wrong. to see other people and want what they have, or don’t have. it’s a cycle of loathing and discomfort that seems to never end.