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My name is Emily. I’m 34 years old.
When you look at my photograph, the first things you probably notice are my weight and the tattoos covering my entire body.
But you can hardly imagine how many years I spent feeling ashamed of that very body.
I grew up in a family where a girl was expected to be thin, modest, and as invisible as possible.
My mother often told me:
“Emily, eat a little less. Who’s ever going to marry you looking like that?”
At school, the othervchildren made fun of me. I never attended pool parties, never wore short sleeves, and always tried to hide whenever someone took photographs.
When I was twelve, I drew my dream body in a little notebook.
It wasn’t thin.
It was covered with beautiful flowers, butterflies, and meaningful designs.
I believed that if I could someday decorate my body with