Ana M.
Photography by Anjali Kapadia
If you’re reading this, your body deserves kindness.
You’re not alone in struggling with body image and eating habits. Recovery is possible — and it’s worth it.
I was just 15 when I developed issues with eating. The COVID pandemic hit hard, and contrary to a back-to-back day of classes, lacrosse practice, and homework, I was stuck with myself at home. The “10-minute Hourglass Abs You Need” and toxic diet culture that flooded my feed combined with my boredom was a recipe for disaster. Inspired by these influencers, I tracked a minuscule amount of calories on MyFitnessPal, performed silly workouts, and ate virtually nothing. At the time, I thought I was doing everything right, playing the game society needed me to play. In other words, I was not society’s version of “pretty” — narrow waist, toned stomach, thin legs. If I didn’t watch what I ate, I would never be pretty. I would never be loved.
Nobody had noticed how I was eating, but my body did. Within months, I had lost my energy, social battery, and period, developing a condition called amenorrhea. Ironically, I felt proud that I had been able to degrade my body to this extent. I mean, I looked great, right? In reality, I had made the worst mistake of my life and ruined some pretty great memories — refusing to get a boba tea while my friends enjoyed theirs, declining birthday cake at parties, and eating meals solely if I knew the calorie content. Funny enough, I never even reached the “body goals” I wanted in the first place. After all, I was a 4’11’’ teen girl, not a tall twenty-something model. Every night, I worried that I might wake up the next day and look completely different. At the time, I was never aware that these societal expectations were unrealistic for somebody like me — or anyone, for that matter. I didn’t trust myself, I feared food, and that sucked. Being unkind to my body not only affected me, it affected how I behaved around others: I wish I could have fixed that.
I’m proud to say that, five years later, I've pretty much recovered from these habits. Coming to college and being exposed to a new way of life — new food, new friends, new habits — made me learn to be uncomfortable with change. Being in a dining hall, I had to let go of my silly tracking habits from the past. Slowly but surely, I learned to fall in love with food again, with the encouragement of my friends. Seeing my friends’ faces light up when a new Marketplace dessert came out in the dining hall (the chocolate chip cookies were my favorite), I became more comfortable trying new foods. I tried new dishes, ate at new restaurants, and learned that I deserved nourishment. I also started my own food Instagram page to document my journey with trying new, unique dishes — which sparked my continued passion for trying new things, even if it felt uncomfortable. I felt immensely better, too. Looking at the mirror, I began to see myself sparkle from the inside — and I began to accept that I looked great from the outside, too.
My progress with recovery was not linear — and I still sometimes struggle. Today, however, I make sure to treat my body with every ounce of kindness it deserves. The teen version of me deserved it, and the version of me now needs it. I am pretty, and I am loved, no matter what.
Toxic diet culture, social influences, and health myths continue to circulate around the Internet and in real life, and it hurts me to see other people silently dealing with these issues like I did. If you’re affected by this or dealing with any body image or disordered eating habits, please know you’re not alone, and you don’t deserve to be going through this. Healing isn’t about willpower; it’s about support, compassion, and unlearning the lies that our society has told us — that we have to look a certain way and eat certain things (or nothing at all) to be “accepted.”
Remember that your worth is not tied to what you eat or how you look. At all. Surround yourself with people who lift you up, who remind you that food is fuel, joy, and connection. If you’re struggling, reach out—to a friend, a mentor, a counselor—because you don’t have to navigate this alone. Recovery doesn’t mean never struggling again, but it does mean choosing to treat yourself with the love and care you truly deserve. And you do deserve it.
Ana M., Duke University
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