There was a time when I was dying to lose weight. Where I craved to be like the skinny minnies plastered all over a Victoria Secret catalogue. I had mega fitspo shame. My self-worth became dependent on the number on my scale.
In an attempt to get that number lower and lower, I was clocking in anywhere from 14 to 20 hours of working out a week. Not only was I exercising for a ridiculous amount of time, I was also on a super strict calorie limit. This led me to obsess and drool over food. I would eat, feel guilty, and then...
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