Suzannah Weiss

One day, when you’re twice your age, you’ll write a letter to yourself with all the things no one taught you about your period

I won't lie: When it comes to my appearance, I'm not my own biggest fan. Others may disagree, but catching a glimpse of myself in my mirrored closet doors is not a pleasant experience.

When speaking with eating disorder victims, what not to say is as important as what to say.

At age 25, I'm hardly an adult. But boy am I grown up compared to who I was in college. If I could go back in time, I'd have quite a few things to tell my former self, and save a lot of stress, time, and energy.

When I was first diagnosed with anorexia ten years ago, I vaguely knew that eating disorders were a feminist issue.

“Some of the smartest thinkers . . . are university professors, but most of them just don’t matter in today’s great debates”—or do they?

Ever since I was a kid myself, I’ve held the conviction that I didn’t want kids. I found baby dolls creepy and real-life babies irritating. Whenever I told my parents this, they’d say, “You’ll change your mind.” But at age 25, I still haven’t.

I was six the first time I remember sucking in my stomach.

If they could go back, a lot of women in their 30s would reassure their 20-something selves that they really don’t need to worry. “No one has it all figured out yet. You're going to be fine."

Talking about sex may make you uncomfortable, but so would having children who grow up in ignorance and fear.