Commentary like this led me to believe there was something inherently wrong with my body, and growing up I didn’t think to question the source. I eventually learned to “brush it off” (a.k.a. pretend it didn’t bother me when it really did), but a couple years ago a comment made in a public restroom threw me for a loop.

“Um excuse me, but aren’t you in the wrong bathroom?”

I’d officially been mistaken for a man…cue every tall woman’s worst nightmare. The woman eventually realized her error and apologized profusely, but the damage was already done. Something clicked inside me, and I mercilessly chased this idea that I could have the “perfect” body. Realistically, I knew I could never safely be below 200 pounds or fit in size 6 jeans, but that didn’t stop me from trying! I told myself I’d be confident, happy even, the day I lost weight.

I yo-yo dieted, cleansed, and juice-fasted my way to unhappiness, insecurity, and lack of confidence.