Dear Body,

I'm Sorry for the Crash Diets I didn’tknow better, but I do now. I pushed you, starved you, and punished you for not looking the way I thought you should. I thought if I controlled you hard enough, I’d finally be proud of you—of me. But all I did was teach you to fear change. To hold on. To protect me from myself. Every time I fed you too little, yelled at you in the mirror, or weighed your worth on a scale, I chipped away at the trust between us. And still, you showed up. You kept breathing. You kept carrying me. You never gave up on me, even when I gave up on you. I know now that healing isn’t about shrinking—it’s about softening into care. I’m not here to punish you anymore. I’m here to understand, to nourish, and to listen.

Dear Body,

Movement Isn’t a Punishment
I used to move just to burn. To erase meals, to shrink faster, to fix what I thought was broken. I made exercise a sentence, not a celebration. I forgot that movement was once joy—running barefoot as a kid, dancing in the kitchen, stretching without judgment. Somewhere along the way, I replaced play with punishment. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for turning every workout into a war against you. You were never the enemy. You’ve only ever been the place I live. So now, I want to move differently. Not because I hate how I look, but because I love how I feel when I treat you with care. I want to walk for peace, stretch for softness, and move to reconnect with you—not to run away from myself. I’m still learning, but I’m listening now. And this time, we move together.

I’m coming home to make peace with you—myself.

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