An Open Letter to My Body: I Love You but Sometimes Still Hate You

Hallie Gould

I was down in Miami for the city's annual Swim Weekend when a familiar feeling crept up, weaving itself along every ounce of my body. I looked at a picture of myself and felt my skin crawl. As a woman on the better end of her eating disorder recovery, I hadn't felt triggered like that in a while.

Swiping through photo after photo, I felt pangs of fear colliding with guilt in this bizarre emotional cocktail I forced myself to swallow. For the rest of the trip, my mind vacillated between feeling uncomfortable in my body and being embarrassed I allowed those thoughts to invade my space. I berated myself for feeling bad. With each passing thought, I sunk deeper and deeper into this shame spiral—not for the way my body looked, but for not loving it anyway.

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