I didn't want to look in the mirror anymore. I didn't want to stare at myself face to face, and realize the coldhearted truth. "What have I done to myself?" Was the only sentence I could barely speak out of my lips. Just standing there, observing my every feature made me feel sick to my stomach. My rib cage stuck out of my shirt like some sort of bone out of place. My eyes had bags under them, and my lips were cracked horribly. I was so pale, that it actually looked like I hadn't been out of the house in months. I feel as if I turn sideways, you can't even see me.

I started to feel the tears prickling down my cheeks, so I took one last look and turned away from the mirror. I hadn't always been this skinny, you know. I was actually always a little over weight, quite chubby as people would say. All throughout elementary and middle school I never had one problem with name calling, teasing, bullying, anything of that sort. My freshman year, that's when everything started. That's when the hurtful words began, and the throwing of food. People made fun of my outfits, because my clothes weren't in a size zero ... and because I wasn't a size zero. People expect you to be perfect. They expect you to have a perfect body, and have "the" look. The super model look, like you see in magazines. But, that wasn't me.

That's when I started to throw my food back up. I started posting pictures of models on my walls in bikinis, and cut back on junk food. Soon enough, I cut back to no food. Running everyday, drinking nothing but water. I was proud of myself, you know? I knew I could go to school now and people would accept me. I could hang out with the cheerleaders, and get a date with the cutest boy in school. Make friends, focus on my grades. That everything would be fine, and I'd be the happiest person in the whole world.

... But that was only a dream.

I still got made fun of. When I lost the weight, they made fun of my hair. So, I cut it. Then it was my face, so I started wearing more makeup. All together, they always found something about me to make fun of. I still wasn't eating, and I was getting skinnier everyday. It looked like you could break me in half and I'd be gone just like that.

But, you know what I realized today? That we all have flaws. Those kids that made fun of me, probably just do it because they have their own imperfections. Wether it's about the way they look, or something going on at home, they're not perfect either. Why? Because nobody is perfect. Everybody should love their selves the way they are. You don't have to be a size zero to be beautiful. To be beautiful ... you just have to be yourself.

I finally stopped crying, and took a second to take everything in.

"I. Am. Beautiful."
"I. Am. Beautiful."

I kept saying it over and over again as I headed downstairs to the kitchen. My mom saw me walking towards her. "So, I guess your not eating with us as usual, eh?"

I felt like I was going to start crying all over again. Not because I was sad, but because I knew this was the beginning of a fresh start.

"Actually, Mom. I think I'd like a full plate of pasta tonight. Maybe afterwards even a slice - no, two slices of cake?"

I couldn't help but smile.