I compare my size as if being thinner or smaller somehow means better. Even though I know being thin will never make me happier, more confident, or cooler, I still want it.
Maybe deep down, we all feel more comfortable when we’re pretending to be uptight, cold and pretentious.
Counting has become the only thing that can both soothe my nerves and cause panic in my heart.
Because society places so much pressure on female-identifying bodies, the urge to control your own is seen as manipulative and self-indulgent.
I stuck my finger in your butt once. But that didn’t stop you from ignoring me at the party.
Change is hard. Like, death-defying hard. And it really, really sucks. Like, it’s the worst.