The Body You Saw Wasn’t the One I Lived In

I used to be the “smaller friend” who talked about feeling fat.
And I know now that probably hurt people.
But what no one saw was that I genuinely believed it.

When I looked at myself, I didn’t see a small body. I saw a woman who, if she wore the right clothes, could hide the parts she didn’t like. I saw someone curvy because I had never been thin. I believed I looked four months pregnant. I believed I had a double chin, a big butt, just… too much.

And that didn’t come from nowhere.

I grew up around disordered eating and in the 90s, where being thin wasn’t just ideal, it was expected. I remember being called chubby at 120 pounds. I went to a modeling interview once, already wondering why I was even there, and they told me they loved my eyes and my hair but I would need to lose a considerable amount of weight.

I was bullied in school. Teased for having big boobs, severe cystic acne, headgear, braces. My body was always the topic. So of course I made it mine too.

I’ve had moments where I thought I was being reassuring about bodies and weight and later realized my words may have landed differently than I intended them too. And still, those moments feel confusing, a little shameful, and also truthful. Because both things existed at the same time. I was struggling in my body, and my words still had impact.

What people didn’t see was the voice in my head. It was loud, constant, judging, body checking, picking apart every angle, every photo, every reflection. Compliments rarely landed. They felt untrue, dismissible, especially when I could see what I believed was wrong.

I felt like people valued me for my body but didn’t actually see me. So I lived in this contradiction where my body was always on display, and I felt completely invisible.

And in some ways, I still feel misunderstood, especially now.

Because now my body is different. There are moments I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself. Clothes don’t look the way I expect them to. Sometimes I forget what I look like, and honestly, those moments feel peaceful. But a lot of the time, I feel like I need to explain myself, like I can’t just exist in this body without a reason.

Yes, I’ve gained weight because of my hysterectomy, hormones, things happening behind the scenes. And even though those things are true, I notice how much I need them to be true. Because the story underneath is that I can’t just look like this and be okay.

And this is where HAES changed something for me. Not because it ignores health, but because it tells a fuller story.

I am actually healthier now than I was in my smaller body. In my twenties, I had horrible IBS. My nervous system was constantly overloaded. My cholesterol and blood pressure were high. My body hurt all the time. I thought I had fibromyalgia. But from the outside, I looked better.

That’s the part people miss.

You cannot determine health by looking at someone. A thin person can have a heart attack tomorrow. A larger person can be doing everything they can to support their body. It’s not that weight never matters. It’s that it’s not the whole story.

If I could go back and talk to that younger version of me, I would tell her to learn to love herself, because no one else can do that for you. You are the one in your head every single day. You create your world, your perception. And when everything else gets quiet, it’s just you in there. You are beautiful, you are enough, and you are worthy.

And if I could say anything now, it would be this. Have compassion. Listen to people’s experiences. Don’t assume you know what’s happening inside someone based on what you see on the outside.

Because there are people in smaller bodies who feel like they are too much, and people in larger bodies who feel like they are not enough. And sometimes it’s the same person at different points in their life.

We don’t need more judgment. We need more understanding. We need more space for people to be human in their bodies without having to explain why they look the way they do.

Because we are all worthy of that, exactly as we are.