I’m slowly learning to love my body. Slowly but surely, I'm learning to accept my appearance, although not in the way I had hoped, and after enduring a torturous process to get here.

Growing up fat has made an impact on me. You could say it helped me develop my personality and character. But my love for how I looked was something I had to sacrifice.

I find it hard to believe people find me attractive. I had the urge to let people know about me, even parts they don’t deserve to, just to show them I can offer other things. And yet, that didn't improve matters much.

People do find me attractive after years of self-loathing and convincing myself that I do not have to change for other people. I was never a fan of extreme measures so I did what I could. A haircut, piercings, change of style.

A small part of me still gets jealous when I see other people and wonders what could have been. I’ve accepted the way I have and have proof that my look isn’t that bad. I’m not saying it’s a good type of proof, but still proof.