Pardon the grammar in this, I know it's not too pretty. Also, some strong language is used:)

I've always been a big girl, except for when I was born. I was a smooth 5 pounds 1 ounce, and things only went up from there. In middle school, all of my friends shopped at Hollister and Lily Pulitzer, while I resorted to the "Juniors Plus" section of JC Penny and Aeropostale. In high school, I watched what felt like every other high schooler enter and leave relationships, while I stayed (with the exception of a few failed, week-long relationships,) single. Entering College, I became more aware of people who were finding the partners that they would be spending the rest of their lives with, while I sat behind and watched.

During my junior year of high school, I honestly came to the realization that I would be single forever and that in order to find someone who truly loved me, that one of two major things would need to happen.

1. I would need to lose weight, and I'd need to lose it quick.

OR

2. I would need to stumble on an email from a foreign prince who wanted to share his multi-billion dollar fortune with me.

Considering that my search for a foreign prince wasn't going too hot, I decided to diet instead. On a normal day, I would restrict myself to 600 Calories a day of chicken, hummus, vegetables, and water. That diet, along with the fact that my gallbladder was exploding in my body (Whoops), caused me to lose almost 70 pounds in a span of three months. 70 Pounds in three months is super normal for the average human being. It is especially not normal with PCOS. Even though there were so many red flags, I felt invincible.

What I came to discover during this time was that people treated me the best when I was at my worst. I got a rush from it, and the more I pushed myself to eat less, the more praise I would receive from the outside world. What if those people knew that the glow on my face was sweat from the constant purging that was both, medically speaking, in and out of my control? What if they knew that the rapid weight loss caused me to have some of the toughest months of my life with chronic illness. Finally: What if they knew that the compliments that they were telling me were only fulfilling the fallacy that I had created of myself, the fallacy that I was only worthy of love and acceptance if the size of my jeans was a single digit?

Flashback to the fall of 2018, where a girl, who gained back most of those 70 pounds, decided to create an account on the little app that we all know and love, Tinder. She makes it as a joke, trying to see if she can find anyone she knows on there. Eventually, she posts some pictures and makes a bio that is authentically her. It mentions her love for her dogs, Cookout, and The Golden Girls. She swipes left, and left, and left again. She throws in a few right swipes, but the matches she finds only view her for the things that make her the most uncomfortable about herself. She keeps swiping left, discouraged until she stumbles on a boy. He loves music(YES), he has beautiful ginger hair(UM HECK YEAH), and in his photos and his bio, he is authentically himself(SUPER DUPER YES). She swipes right when all the sudden:

Shablam WooHoo Bingo Dingo It's A Match!!!!!!

Sheer Panic. He's way too good for me. He may like my face, but he'll leave like the other ones have in the past. Then he sends me a message. I panic again. He can only know me over the interwebs for so long. But then, He wants to go on a date with me. What the fuck? Me? A girl so unworthy, she's damaged goods. Shes lumpy, curvy, pale, tall, and possess two feet that most like to call "the boats". But that girl got the courage to meet that boy at a Mexican restaurant on that fateful Saturday, and well, the rest is history folks:)

I am that girl, and with the help and wisdom of that boy man, I've learned to love my body, but my entire self. He taught me to love myself not out of selfishness or for his personal benefit, but out of the gentleness of his heart. I've learned to love the things that make my body me, like the quite frankly, strange, hypermobile joints that God gave me that I now fondly call my "mozzarella stick joints". My body is stronger than I ever knew possible, and well (insert the cheese lol) is my unique body. I'm no longer the girl that suppresses herself in public for fear that someone might judge my loud laugh or cheeky smile. I'm no longer ashamed of the horrible "that's what she said" jokes that I crack way too frequently. My awkwardness is becoming my charm, and it's kinda cool!

I leave you today with a comparison of me, written by me. Last year, I might have been a size12/14 instead of my 16/18 that I am now, but damn it, I've never been happier than now either. Last year I was so concerned to post a picture of myself on the internet for fear that someone would see the flaws of my body or the weird way that my eyes curl up when I smile. But now, I let the world see me authentically. I want to be able to portray myself in the way that I authentically feel, and if that involves showing some unflattering shots to show me having a good time, then I'm gonna do it. By loving my body, and more importantly loving myself as a whole, I've grown to realize the one thing that society wants to tell me so hard that I am not.

I AM WORTHY.