I gained 40 pounds during my freshman year of college.

At first, it happened slowly and silently. One day, I noticed the skin on my thighs was beginning to sag around my knees. Another day, I discovered stretch marks on my sides. Then, they appeared on my inner thighs. My thigh gap disappeared. Suddenly, my size 2 jeans no longer fit. I was forced to upgrade to - gasp! - a size 4. Then, an 8. Then, a 10. My cheeks swelled, and my entire face felt heavier. My joints began to ache, and I was constantly fatigued. I felt trapped inside my own body.

Maybe this wouldn't have been so difficult for me if I hadn't been a skinny kid all my life. I was always moving. I grew up on a farm. I was in sports. On bus rides home from middle and high school track meets, I would down half-gallon jugs of chocolate milk (my drug of choice) like it was nothing.

For me, skinny wasn't merely a physical characteristic. It was part of my identity. Growing up, I heard many more comments regarding my figure than my intellect. I quickly got the message that being a girl meant that I needed to be attractive, and being attractive meant that I needed to remain thin, which at the time was no problem for me. Still, I developed an irrational fear of being undesirable. Even if these comments on my body were at times borderline inappropriate, I developed an unhealthy dependence on them in order to feel validated.

You're a tiny little thing, aren't you?

Do you ever eat? or Where do you put all that food?

You've got great legs. If I had a pair of those, I'd show them off all the time.

I wish I was as skinny as you.

If anyone did notice my weight gain, nobody said anything to me, but eventually, the "skinny" comments stopped. My pest of a younger brother would poke and prod at the excess mounds of dough that had gathered around my midsection. He suddenly scowled at me on days when I decided to wear shorts around the house. My dad would cautiously ask me if I was still going on runs. After a while, that stopped too. This new silence created a void that I filled with negative self-talk.

Example: I hated this photo when it was posted. I shouldn't have. This was a great night. My friend and I played music at a local venue. This should have been something to celebrate. But for the first time, I didn't recognize myself in a photo. As far as I was concerned, my face and my arms were not mine. I was stricken with horror. I felt like I was living in a body that belonged to someone else, and this photo proved that my body didn't look the way it used to.

All this time, I had friends who were both larger and smaller than me, all of them beautiful. Size wasn't important to me when it came to other people. However, I was an exception to my own rule. I had wrongfully hated myself for years, and my weight was making everything worse for me. I continued to hate myself until I became too exhausted. Then, I thought nothing of myself. I thought nothing of myself until I became unbearably bored and agitated. I could feel myself getting older. I wanted something more for myself. It was time for a reality check.

I was no longer thin, but it was in this body that I had achieved some of the greatest accomplishments of my life. I was no longer thin, but this body had withstood more pain and grief than I believed to be possible. I was no longer thin, but when I shut myself down emotionally, it was my body that went on living. I wanted to give up on my body, but it refused to be done with me.

My self image was so distorted that I believed myself to be the most repulsive creature who ever lived. I know better now. There is nothing wrong with me. I'm just as good as anyone else. I'm just as flawed as anyone else. It took me a stupidly long time to realize that.

I might take up a few extra square inches now, but I've never felt more comfortable in my own skin.

Sometimes, women gain weight for reasons that are out of their control. This should not be a big deal. My weight gain didn't need to be the traumatic experience that it was. It's horrifying to think that this is the sort of thing that women are ridiculed for. Some women lose jobs for "not having the right look." It's not unusual for a woman who just miraculously gave birth to another human to be viewed as "damaged goods" if she cannot immediately shed her post-baby body. Girls in elementary school who still have so much growing to do have endless lists of things they wish to change about their appearances.

This has got to stop. Our bodies are always something to celebrate. We would be nothing without them. There are so many more important things to worry about. Be kind to yourself, take care of yourself, and the rest will follow.

And for the sake of the young girls in your life, please ask them about the books they're reading before you comment on their appearances. Thanks.