So I've struggled with my body for years. I have always thought I was fat, bouncing from diet to eating disorder, and the times in my life when I was happiest was when I was too busy to obsess over my body. My sister is a twig and we all know how that goes. 

But I've decided to stop this yoyoing and saw a nutritionist a few months ago. Lately I've been depressed with my life, where I live, and my body. And instead of the calorie counting diets I expected, my nutritionist taught me to stop beating myself up about my body. And it took months. But slowly I started to realize my past self was never even fat. That I was beautiful and there was never anything wrong with me. And right now I am the fattest I've ever been. And even though I have been less hard on myself I've been avoiding mirrors and pictures and just being afraid of scales and what others thought. And today I looked in the mirror and saw a stretch mark, visible on my left side of my stomach. And I felt the need to panic. My 16 year old self hated the stretch marks on my hips and boobs and thighs and feared the judgement other would hold of them. But I didn't panic. Yeah I'm not happy about it. But today for the first time I saw something, a sign of the fact that for the first time in my life I am ACTUALLY over weight, yet I'm more at peace with myself than ever before. And I'm in tears over the fact that I can accept something that I've always been afraid to accept. And that its okay. I'm still more than fuckable. I'm still beautiful and I'm still who I was before this mark appeared. And I needed to post this to remind myself of these feelings and put them into words, and hopefully the next time I'm afraid to look in a mirror I remember that I'm more than okay, and to gracefully welcome those extra pounds into the family rather than compartmentalize my body into stereotypical ideas. So any similar stories or thoughts would really help me right now, as well as future me.