Dear Skinny Me

This was taken at Riley’s birthday party – when all you ate was a handful of broccoli and 7 litres of water. Remember how you cringed when you saw this picture because you thought that you were overweight?


Do you remember how you beat yourself up about wanting a slice of Riley’s birthday cake? How you didn’t really enjoy the day because you were starving? But there you are, dying on the inside because of what the scale said that morning.
I remember telling Paul that I couldn’t wait until I was smaller after seeing this picture. You were already in size 8 jeans, but the scale said 67kgs and it needed to be at 58kgs. That was my goal because when I was a little girl, I was told that the scale is all that mattered.
You know how we lost a shit tonne of weight together and started to live for being in shorts and gym wear? That part of us died a little, I put too much pressure on myself to be perfect. You know – like Instagram models are.  I became obsessed with getting smaller, achieving those Instagram worthy poses that people are convinced are real. Here is the thing, they aren’t and I should have known better. But still, I soldiered on with my fasted cardio and unrealistic expectations of what I had to look like.
A lot of shit has happened since you looked like that – for starters, you don’t look like that anymore. But, I’m pretty sure you will again soon – only this time, can we do it safely? It was really nice being showered with compliments and stuff, but that’s the worst excuse for damaging your body. Be proud of me, I’m going to the gym again on the regular. I’m watching my calories, and eating healthy meals. I’m being kinder to myself and taking time for what matters most. I’m honest with myself, and it’s okay for you to be too. We’re in this together, Cashé.
I don’t want to go back to sad, sick Cashé either and I’m so ready to ditch the fat suit. Just you wait, I’m coming for you.
P.s. I love you

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