102.5 pounds. That's how much I weighed when I was a senior in high school. I remember that number because I was proud of it, and because I never hit it again after I went off to college. At that time I was playing field hockey, eating a bowl of ice cream almost every night, and in a terrible, toxic relationship. Looking back at pictures of me from that time period, I looked slender and toned, by skin tan from practices and games spent outside. My teeth were straight and picture-perfect thanks to braces. My hair had a cute, natural flounce to it that I've mysteriously never been able to replicate. But, boy, was I miserable in that body. Fake it 'til you make it, baby. This time of year, when beaches and social media feeds are filled with images of half-naked bodies, it's hard to not feel less-than. Even knowing that people edit their pictures with filters and Photoshop, that they contort their bodies and hold their breath long enough to snap that perfect shot, it can
What fills the eye, fills the heart