Content warning: this article deals with disordered eating and mental health, and may be triggering for some readers.
I was probably only in Year 2 or 3 when I realised my body was something to be ashamed of.
That it was a little bigger than the others. That it was embarrassing. That it needed to be scolded, tamed and controlled.
I don't have a lot of childhood memories in which my body wasn't a problem that needed to be fixed.
I was a sporty, active kid, but one who was constantly tugging at her t-shirt, avoiding cameras, and looking at her crossed legs at the school assembly and comparing them to the girl sitting next to her.
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