Suzannah Weiss

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

Best of all? She's just getting started.

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 the police arrested Wendy Barnes's pimp, it appeared as if she were free at last, she recalls during our phone interview. “Maybe this nightmare ends,” she thought. But that's when they handcuffed her, brought her to the station, and charged her with the exact same crime: prostitution.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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