**_Tw: body dysmorphia, possible ed_**

_Okay, this isn't like fully the prompt, but I feel like it sorta fits._

I put on a dress that doesn't quite fit me right; doesn't quite hug my body the way my other clothes do.

All of the sudden it's 2021 again.

I hate my body, hate how much I weigh. I hate the way I look in the mirror, hate how some stores don't carry my size in person.

I tug the dress backwards to show off the body that i'm still insecure of; but at least I'm not as fat as I was.

I was never confident, never thought I was worth anything.

I used to wear two piece bathing suits as a young kid. Once I hit a certain age I only wore things that covered my stomach, never wanted anything shorter than that.

I didn't touch a two piece bathing suit again until I was 14.

Until I figured out how to swim while still sucking my stomach in. How to pick at my food until it looked like I ate enough to excuse myself. How to skip lunches at school without people being worried.

*How to lose weight fast.*

I googled that night after night.

I tried every little thing the websites told me.

I participated in gym class more than I ever would've, pushing myself to the limit.

Because I just wanted to be thin.

I just wanted to be pretty.

I'll never be as skinny as the people I walk past on the street.

I've lost 30 pounds in the past two years and it's still not enough.

Picking out sizes in the store I pray that I fit into a small; Obviously I don't but I hope. I wish.

Even wearing a medium feels too much.

I hate cameras.

I hate the way every picture of me looks awful, the way my family mocks me.

I hate the way I was made to be insecure.

I have nothing to be insecure about.

But I was raised to feel that I was fat; that I was ugly; that I could always eat less.

And when my mom accuses me of having an eating disorder, all I want is to scream:

It's your fault.