Don’t Judge Me By The Size of My Jeans
<p>Itwas the usual weekly family gathering. A sister-in-law quietly whispered to me that she had had Bariatric surgery to reduce the size of her stomach.</p>
<p>For as long as I’ve known her, she struggled with obesity. She was 77 pounds overweight, an excess baggage she’d been stuck with close to a decade. Equally as long as I’ve been her friend, she’s had an unhealthy relationship with food and a distorted view of herself. She avoids vegetables, hates to hydrate, and has a sweet tooth.</p>
<p>In a bid to be sensitive, I try not to use the term body dysmorphia around her. Though I am no expert in the matter, from what I’ve read and understood about eating disorders, that’s been the poltergeist haunting her since she was a child. She didn’t like a lot of what she saw in the mirror and battled with guilt each time she ate. Or rather, overate.</p>
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