I made a loaf of bread the other night…and didn’t eat the whole thing. This may not sound like a big deal but, unfortunately, it is.

I have issues with food. I might as well have just said, “I’m an American woman.” It seems like the latter statement pretty much means the former.

I’ve been thin and I’ve been thick (although I’m much more familiar with the second one). My issues with food actually came before the thickness. I remember in third grade ditching my sandwiches and bringing lunches I packed. Wheat Thins and Velamints. I added up the total calories to reach 100. It must have seemed like a nice round yet skinny number. (The Velamints were chocolate and like 11 calories each–a perfect dessert.) In my mind I was already fat by that point. Looking back at photos, I now see I wasn’t even close–but this type of deprivation would change that. By the time the school day ended, I was starving and shoved as many Little Debbies as I could into my mouth, until my friend’s mom gave me dirty looks for eating all their after school snacks.

So, I turned a healthy child into a fat preteen into a teenager with an eating disorder. Now, I’m an adult who’s still paying for what I’ve done to my body…and my self-esteem.

But that’s the thing, I’m paying for it. I AM paying for it. It’s worth it to get stronger…in every way. And I am stronger than I have ever been, not just physically, but emotionally too. “What does not kill me…”