"I know all women have body issues. If you didn't, you wouldn't be normal."
My new boyfriend told me that when I became upset at him commenting on my body fat (or lack thereof), and I don't think he could ever understand just how much more depressing I find it that I am merely 'normal' in my repellant self hatred.
At least as an anorectic, one has something special. Now at a healthy weight I am just another female, having family reassurances constantly contradicted by the media - another 'sinful snack,' 'flawless perfection,' 'perfect new body' advert. I don't know one woman who is truly happy with herself. Most of them haven't been classified mentally ill, so what hope is there for me to ever let go of this?