I looked into the mirror, unhappy with what I saw. I analyzed every aspect of my appearance and compared it to those of my friends. My shoulders, too broad. Thighs, too big. I used my hands to pull tight at that extra pinch of skin on my hips. I was 10. Whether in my leotard and tights, or sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, I was always aware of my physical image. This wasn’t just a one-time experience. It occurred on a daily basis, five days a week, for 15 years. Mirrors consumed my life.

Growing up in the dance community, I was surrounded by insecure people. Eating habits and weight were topics never discussed, to a point where it almost seemed forbidden. I never questioned the silence because body hatred was normal to me. As I watched others around me struggle with eating, I found myself wondering if I, too, should be worried about whether that extra bite of pasta was truly worth it. When I was anxious, I found myself not wanting to eat. I starved myself. But after a stressful event, all I could think about was the delicious greasy burger and fries I was going to devour later. It was hard trying to find the right balance between being a committed athlete and a healthy eater.

I will never forget when a girl in my class explained how she wore the waistline of her tights pulled up to her bust to make her seem thinner underneath her leotard, and how the circle of people she told loved the idea. Another girl installed a dieting app on her phone to track her (lack of) calories. From the age of three, I had to resist the urge to fall into the trap created by the world’s stereotypes of dancers.

Despite all these years of constantly battling my unrealistic expectations while still striving to nourish my body, I have learned that I shouldn’t change who I am to fit society’s standards of what a dancer should look like. My body has gotten me through all the struggles, sweat, injuries, and days when all I wanted to do was quit. I felt compelled to skip meals but was able to step out of my shoes and realize it wasn’t worth sacrificing my health to meet the unrealistic standard of beauty. Though I still continue to compare myself to others, I am finally building the confidence to find comfort in myself and who I am.

I was able to step away from the precipice. Was I lucky? More disciplined? Or was there a more complex explanation? The dance community not only tolerates, but encourages unhealthy eating habits. How does that expectation influence dancers who are prone to body image issues? How can one’s mind grasp onto something so destructive? Questions like these bouncing around in my head established my interest in the human brain. The AP Psychology class I am currently taking is cementing my fascination with the subject.

My goal as a dancer and student of psychology is to help members of my community establish healthy eating habits at a young age.

Beyond that, I want to remove the taboo of discussing food relationship issues with young dancers and young women. Every young woman I know, dancer or not, has struggled with her body image. I aspire to create a world where women do not link their success to their beauty or think their appearance falls short. I see food as nourishment, and my body as healthy and strong. Society has its opinion, but mine is all that matters.

I am so much more than my reflection in the mirror.