To seven year old me who gave up grilled cheese sandwiches for cottage cheese and fresh fruit because she thought she was fat.
To twelve year old me who thought that being tall and developed was wrong, so she intentionally slouched.
To graduating senior me who looked in the mirror and only saw flaws, so she decided she needed to perfect being nice.
To twenty-seven year old me who found herself 20 pounds below goal weight and thought her size six waist finally made her worthy, but who needed to obsessively weigh herself.
To thirty year old me who still wasn’t convinced she was good enough, smart enough, or pretty enough, so she said yes, yes, yes just to please.
To thirty-seven year old me, who looks back at photos and whispers…you were beautiful. But who still struggles to really hear her husband say, “You are beautiful.”