i. i've grown up to believe that beauty comes in one size; skinny.

ii. everything i've ever been taught about being beautiful comes from girls in magazines, wearing skin tight, size 0 jeans.

iii. according to these standards, i was beautiful at one point in my life.

iv. i gained a lot of weight during my recovery from anorexia. according to these standards, i am no longer pretty.

v. when the world looks down on those over 100 pounds, i feel defeated, like all my time and money spent on makeup and hair products and designer clothes means nothing.

vi. but there are days i still look in the mirror, and i see beauty in the reflection. i see hope in my once tired eyes, i see a reality to my smile.

vii. there are days i still look in the mirror and remember what i learned in that hospital in wisconsin. i remember my heart issues, i remember crying at the dinner table.

viii. i remember being dizzy, i remember being ill. i remember that being pretty is not restricted to a shape or size. i remember the day i chose to live without fear of the world.

ix. so now i'm walking down the street in my crop top, my belly flopped over the top of my shorts, i am standing tall. i am beautiful.