When I was 18, I wrote a letter of encouragement to myself and then accidentally left it in a textbook that I sold back to my college bookstore. In a parallel universe, this might be a charming story about a lost, handwritten pick-me-up that a stranger comes to cherish. Unfortunately for me and for the stranger, the letter I actually wrote was encouraging me not to gain weight. Below the words, I’d pasted a photo of myself, 10 pounds heavier, that I believed was so hideous it might prevent me from ever over-eating again. For months, whenever I thought of the missing note, I’d feel sick with shame.
#59: Beauty anxiety
#59: Beauty anxiety
#59: Beauty anxiety
When I was 18, I wrote a letter of encouragement to myself and then accidentally left it in a textbook that I sold back to my college bookstore. In a parallel universe, this might be a charming story about a lost, handwritten pick-me-up that a stranger comes to cherish. Unfortunately for me and for the stranger, the letter I actually wrote was encouraging me not to gain weight. Below the words, I’d pasted a photo of myself, 10 pounds heavier, that I believed was so hideous it might prevent me from ever over-eating again. For months, whenever I thought of the missing note, I’d feel sick with shame.