Dear D, 

Why did I care so much what you thought? Why did I let you hurt me so much? Why did I let you hate myself? There are some things I will never understand and that is one of them. Even after how many months, I beat myself up. Cursing every pimple, every roll, every extra cookie or piece of pizza I ate (never truly enjoying it), every time I pulled on my size 12 jeans. All you did was hurt me emotionally, and every once in a while physically. We weren’t even dating, but I was so blinded by love. You knew that and you abused that. You used me as your emotional and anger release.

Tonight I walked into my bathroom at my college, hating myself on the inside for eating too many Thin Mints, hating the Freshman 15 that may or may not actually be there, and once again planning a diet/exercise plan that was doomed to fail. All my attempts to be healthy, to fit into a size 2—hell, to fit into a size 8–weren’t for me. They were for you. And I’m not okay with that anymore.

Because as I walked into that bathroom, there were signs on the mirrors, telling me, screaming at me: “YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.” They were for Eating Disorder Awareness Week. I knew then that you don’t have to stop eating or stick your finger down your throat to have an eating disorder. Maybe it cannot be doctor confirmed, but you can hate yourself for every piece of chocolate you put into your mouth. And that makes you more upset and resentful and just puts more and more chocolates in your mouth. Thus, the vicious cycle continues of looking in the mirror as I’m getting ready for the day and not seeing the great haircut I did on a whim, the beautiful eyes, the fantastic curves that can flaunt the vintage clothes I love so much.

No, I see the roll of the stomach that can’t comfortably enjoy the freedom of a bikini. I see the flab of the arms that you would mock and poke. I see the pimples that would prevent me from you loving me. Or so I thought. Now, I realize that you were looking for a “model” to be happy. I realized tonight that I don’t want to be that kind of model. I want to be a role model. I don’t want to be a cookie cutter image of every other girl. I want to eat a cookie and not hate myself!

I don’t want you to love me anymore and wait for you to tell me that I’m beautiful. I WANT TO LOVE MYSELF AND KNOW THAT I AM BEAUTIFUL! So I will, because I am beautiful. I don’t need you to think that anymore.

Laura, age 18