Age 20

I have hated my body from the time I realized that was a possibility. I remember always being overweight, although it didn't show on my body. I was always 5 lbs away from a 'normal' BMI, 5 lbs away from being able to love myself, from being able to feel beautiful. Those five pounds led to crash diets, an abusive relationship, an eating disorder, stealing diet pills from stores when no one was looking because I was too ashamed to buy them and let someone see my desperation. There is a movement to celebrate 'curvy' women, telling us that that hourglass figure is the ideal, but at 5'6", 152 lbs, I measure in at 38-27-38 and clothes aren't made for me. I love shopping, but with such a small waist, things hang on me, making me look larger than ever. This is the first time I have been within a normal weight range, and I feel huge. I have always had guys like me, or love my body, and I hear compliments daily, but it doesn't mean anything to me, and no one understands that. I can't appreciate what they see until I see something worthwhile, until I can accept that maybe, being a size 8 is okay. I need to see for myself that being a size 8 is okay even if my entire family is smaller, and it doesn't need to translate to being undeserving of happiness, or love or respect.

Age 17

I have all the characteristics of a model. I am tall, I have excellent bone structure, almond shaped eyes, long legs and great hair. There is only one problem. I am fat. My body mass index puts me at 33.7. I've always been one of those people who "would be so pretty if you only lost weight." So everyday when I look in the mirror, I don't see any of my positive attributes because I'm so focused on how much I weigh. I'm constantly thinking about how everything in my life would be so perfect if only I were thin.

Age 24

Half of the time I feel like there's nothing wrong with the way I look, that it shouldn't matter how overweight I am, as long as I can still keep up. The rest of the time I feel disgusting and looked down upon. As if, to even some of my friends, I matter less because they find me less attractive. I try to focus on the good things: my boyfriend that finds me irresistibly attractive, the friends that hold me in the highest regard. Sometimes that just isn't enough, though...when your ass doesn't fit a seat, when you struggle to find clothing made for someone with a sense of fashion that fits, when you feel guilty for telling anyone that you're hungry, even if you haven't had anything to eat all day, because you're afraid they'll equate it to being fat and always hungry. It doesn't matter how many times I'm told that I look fine, or they don't think of me as "fat," or I'm beautiful...deep down, I usually never feel that way.

I hope that going to a weight management support group, a nutritionist, and starting some sort of workout routine, or at the least leading a more active lifestyle, will help me feel differently. I don't think I'm ugly, at least not my face, but my body makes me forget, society makes me forget, that I'm just fine.

Age 36

I never had a body image problem growing up. I was a runner and a year-round soccer player. My mother cooked balanced, healthy meals that included a salad, vegetable, meat and a starch. I drank (and still do) skim milk and water. I don't like soda much at all. Never did. I do like the occasional alcoholic beverage. I do like some sweets now and again. The point is, is that I was a healthy teenager and 20-something, which has carried on into my adult life.

When I reached my mid-30's, I gained 30 pounds within a year. I've always been an athlete and worked out at the gym 6 days per week, until I met and married my husband. Circumstances were such that I stopped going to the gym and began working 10-12 hour days. My eating habits changed to match that of my now husband, but they still weren't terrible. However, without the workouts, I gained and gained until I hit 30 pounds extra. Then, I hit depression and self-hatred. I almost didn't fit into my wedding dress. Can you imagine the horror I felt when trying to squeeze into it? I kept my veil on the entire night to hide my bulging back and thick arms. THIS is what I remember from my wedding...

Three years later, I am still struggling to lose the 30 pounds I've gained; it's beginning to creep up to 40 pounds extra now. I work out at the gym 5-6 times per week and do watch what I eat. I started running last fall for another 1/2 marathon, but once I reached 8 miles I began to have knee problems and had to drop out of training (I blame this on my extra weight). Which, by the way, I never lost a single pound in all my running and I was weightlifting and bicycling as well. I was and still am under the care of a physician and a personal trainer (I have had one for 3 years now).

I'm obsessed with losing this extra weight. It consumes me and I don't want it to. I know it's very petty of me. I think it's even more strange that I never cared about weight until now, but in thinking it over it's most likely due to the fact that I'd never before had a problem. Why can't I just be happy with the way that I am? My physician husband thinks I just have this in my gene pool (my maternal grandfather was obese and died of a heart attack; my maternal aunt is obese; my mother is obese, even though she has lost substantial weight with working out over the last few years; and my younger sister was "mildly" obese as the doctor told her. She has since lost around 60 pounds through diet and working out. She looks fantastic even though she feels she has more to lose). There could be truth in what my husband says, but I don't want to place blame. I just feel the need to lose the extra weight. I want to fit into normal sized clothes and feel good about myself once more. My husband tells me I'm beautiful and I believe him, but only until I look into a mirror. He loves me, I know this. I am 5' 9" weigh 186 pounds and wear a size 14. I want to feel happy with these statistics. With who I am. Who I've become.
I am not.

I hate my body. I don't want to do so for the rest of my life. I am destroying what little I have left of my own inner spirit.

Age 23

I'm short and stumpy - those are the two words that I think of when I look in the mirror. I'm 105lbs, most people say I'm not fat at all...but it doesn't change the fact that when I look in the mirror I see all the things that could do with improving. The flabby arms, disgusting stomach, the flubberry butt. I don't know what to do. I've tried so hard through other achievements to forget about it - I have a degree, I can teach piano, I love drawing, reading, writing, I used to swim to national level. I go to charity stores to do my shopping, I love cooking and I have a wonderful husband - but there are times when NOTHING feels so good as when someone comments on how skinny I am, or how thin I've become, or when that cursed weighing machine informs me that I've lost 0.5lbs. I just WANT to be thin. Every time I see a magazine cover, or a candid photograph or even some of my best friends, I feel incredible jealousy. How can that be right? I wish someone could help me.

Age 21

Age 46

Number of minutes of every hour I spend hating myself for how much I weigh: 40. Those 40 minutes are spent thinking of what I would wear if I were "skinny"; if what I am wearing makes me look fat; if I am as fat as that girl; or that one; or that one; if I can manage to not eat; what I ate; when I will "behave" and not eat (Monday); why can't I eat and look like that girl; what is wrong with me; why am I so weak...

Over the years, that is a lot of time devoted to...futility.

Age 23

I've always been the fat kid. Growing up, I never had a boyfriend. I still have never had a boyfriend. I was constantly made fun of. I can still remember sitting on the gym floor, watching every other kid get picked in PE. But I was always last...no one wanted me. I was never told I was beautiful, not even by my parents. I never go shopping with friends. No one else shops at the plus-size stores like me. When I walk into "normal people stores," I can feel the stares, wondering why I even walked in. I'm used to the stares, the jeers, the feeling I'm a freak. Little kids stare, their parents do nothing about it. When will I stop feeling like a freak? When will I feel beautiful? When I lose weight? When I die and am no more? When will people see the real me, the me that is just wanting to bust out in all it's wonderful glory?

Age 17

My mom is and was always very beautiful. She modeled and had men falling over themselves for her. When she had me...she had no clue what to do. I was the opposite. Physically, I am not pretty or attractive. I'm on the cusp between "normal" sizes and "plus sizes," a size 12. I hate my physical appearance, when I look in the mirror I see a monster. Sometimes when I am talking to someone and I can tell that they are closely looking at my face I will look away or down because I'm afraid that if they look too close then they will see that I am even uglier up close. In some ways, being ugly has helped me to have to cultivate a personality and a good sense of humor. In other ways, it has destroyed my spirit. I have been, and still am, trying to reconcile myself to the simple fact that though I am not physically beautiful, my spirit and personality can shine through and possibly soften the rough edges of my outward appearance.

Age 31

Growing up, I was made to hate myself for being fat because everyone else hated me for being fat. It was the absolute worst thing that anyone could be. It lead to depression and several suicide attempts. I tried to kill myself because I'm fat. Three years ago I started reading fat-positive blogs and websites that taught me that I am not ugly or a bad person or disliked by everyone. Last summer I met a man who praised me for being fat, who loves large women and tells me all the time that I'm beautiful, and he actually means it. After 31 years, I finally feel beautiful. I walk with my head held high, full of confidence. I'm no longer afraid to call myself fat instead of using some kinder euphemism like curvy or plus-sized. Being a size 28 is just something I am, along with a woman, college graduate, nerd, redhead.

Being fat is not the worst thing that could happen to you. Hating yourself because of how you look is.