I was standing there in my dress and my thighs were touching beneath the fabric.
They were touching.
I could hear the music swell around me, and I could feel the people on both sides of me, and I just wanted to stop thinking about my thighs.
I just wanted to stop thinking.
But as I started noticing my touching thighs, I started glancing at my stomach that isn’t flat like the girl that stood beside me, which led me to think about how squinty my eyes become when I smile, and maybe that’s why that boy doesn’t like me…
And in that moment, I tried to think about how much weight I needed to lose in order to feel pretty.
In order to feel beautiful.
In order to feel enough.
Because a thigh gap, and a flat stomach, and large blue eyes would make me happy – wouldn’t they?