I’m 26 years old. My name is Emily.
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I’ve been overweight since childhood. Kids bullied me at school, I avoided group photos in college, and I couldn’t even imagine going to the beach.
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Every summer, my friends went on vacations, posted beautiful pictures in swimsuits, and enjoyed themselves while I stayed home watching their lives through my phone.
My closet was filled with oversized dresses. I didn’t choose them because I liked them. I wore them because they helped hide my body.
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Sometimes, I even refused invitations to birthday parties because I was terrified someone might take a picture of me.
My mother often told me:
“Emily, you’re a beautiful girl. Why are you so hard on yourself?”
But I never believed her. The only person I never felt judged by was my grandfather, George, who was 73 years old.