For at least 30 years, I have been at war with my body. This body that has birthed two children and survived years and years of self-destructive behavior has stalwartly endured my attempts to kill it off, my disdain, and my attempts to dissociate from it.
When did it start? This deep disdain? I vividly remember seeing a picture of my brother and me taken when I was in my early teens. I thought I looked horrible. Within a few years, my war started in earnest with starvation and, eventually, bulimia. I was a shy, awkward, smart teen who never had a boy...
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