Melissa A. Fabello

I wake up hungry, but I also wake up lighter, emptier. Something about it makes me feel purer. This is one feeling that’s positive in a sea of negative.

The list on the board filled up with words like “ambitious,” “curious,” “intelligent,” and “dedicated.” And as my professor was wrapping up the activity, I sighed and raised my hand.

“I don’t have a problem,” I repeated, this time with my voice raised. And then, spitting defiance, “You’re just jealous.”

As much as I can appreciate any excited person exclaiming that they love “FEMINISM,” that doesn’t really leave me with much to go off of when considering whether or not they’d be a good fit for a position.

"Just like sitting with your negative feelings, looking at the body that you’re unhappy with puts you in the position of being the boss of your situation. It’s a way of reminding the voices in your head that you are the one in charge here — and that the smallest shift in thought or intent can turn your whole day around."

Not everyone who has had an eating disorder also has an issue with perfectionism, but the two are often linked: A persistent feeling of never being “good enough” and needing to do something — anything — to feel under control is a warning sign that a person might be susceptible to an eating disorder.

In my experience dating and sleeping with straight, cisgender dudes who worship hegemonic masculinity, I’ve noticed that there’s something really — umm — special about how they go about sexuality.

Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, the body acceptance movement has a bit of a body rejection problem. Namely, anyone who isn’t a thin, white, able-bodied, straight, middle class, cisgender woman gets left out of the movement altogether — which, in my opinion, isn’t very accepting.

I’m a big proponent of teaching our loved ones how, during the holidays, to be gentle with our eating disorders (both in recovery and out).

Right now, today, as of writing this, I identify as queer. But I didn’t always.