Dear Younger Me (The One Who Called Herself Fat)

A letter to the girl I used to be

Dear Younger Me,

I know things feel heavy right now — and not just your body.

The weight you carry goes far beyond pounds. It’s the looks. The judgment. The clothes that don’t fit. The way people laugh like they already know your worth just by looking at you. I know how much that hurts.

You’ve cried about it. You’ve dieted, failed, tried again, failed again. You’ve walked through stores, holding back tears in the dressing room. You’ve gasped for air on the stairs and told yourself you were lazy when really, you were just trying to survive in a body no one helped you care for with love.

But you didn’t give up.

You kept showing up for yourself, even when it was slow, even when it was hard, even when it felt hopeless.

In January 2012, something will shift. You’ll start again — and this time, you’ll keep going. You’ll lose more than 100 pounds. You’ll gain confidence, clarity, a future you never dreamed of.

You’ll meet someone who sees you — really sees you — but more importantly, you’ll start seeing yourself.

You’ll discover the version of yourself who runs races, takes photos, and dances without shame.

But let me be clear — she isn’t better than you.

She’s not more lovable. She’s not more real. She’s just freer — not because she’s thinner, but because she stopped hiding.

You always thought life would begin once you lost the weight. That joy, love, and permission to be seen only belonged to thinner people. But here’s what you’ll learn:

You were always funny.

You were always smart.

You were always enough.

Even when the world tried to convince you otherwise.

Losing weight won’t magically fix everything. You’ll still wrestle with self-worth. You’ll still scan the mirror for stretch marks and softness. You’ll still feel insecure in shorts. But you’ll also feel proud. You’ll see progress, not perfection. And you’ll know now that “progress” isn’t about smaller jeans — it’s about finally letting yourself take up space, no apology required.

You’re not done growing. You never will be. But you’ve come so far.

Be gentle with yourself.

You never needed fixing — just healing.

Love,

The You Who Knows That Now