Brie Nicole Inked

For as long as I can remember, my body felt like something that needed to be fixed.

While society certainly reinforced that belief, the message started much closer to home. As I entered my teenage years and my body naturally began to develop, my adopted mother became intensely focused on my weight. I was put on random diets before I was even old enough to understand nutrition or the complexities of a changing body. Instead of learning to appreciate what my body was capable of, I learned to view it as a problem. Every new diet seemed to carry the same unspoken message: you would be better if you were thinner. Looking back now, I realize something that my younger self never could—I wasn’t fat.

I was a growing teenager whose body was doing exactly what it was supposed to do. But when you’re repeatedly told, directly or indirectly, that your body isn’t acceptable, reality becomes distorted. I became convinced that I needed to shrink myself. No matter what the mirror reflected, all I could see were flaws that needed correcting.

What began as dieting eventually evolved into something much darker. I became consumed by the idea that thinner meant better. Better meant worthy. Better meant lovable. Better meant enough. I started starving myself. I skipped meals. I counted calories obsessively. I learned to ignore hunger as though it were something to be conquered rather than a signal my body needed care. Eventually, I turned to purging in desperate attempts to gain control over a body I had been taught to distrust. At the time, it felt like I was chasing acceptance. In reality, I was slowly losing myself.

The tragedy of eating disorders is that they rarely begin with a desire to harm yourself. They often begin with a desire to be accepted, to feel beautiful, to feel worthy of taking up space. What starts as an attempt to meet expectations can quietly become a prison. The physical consequences eventually fade, but the psychological ones often linger for years.

For many women, including myself, the struggle isn’t simply about weight. It’s about worth. It’s about believing that if I could just lose enough pounds, everything else would finally fall into place. Confidence would arrive. Self-love would appear. Happiness would somehow be waiting on the other side of a smaller clothing size.

But what I learned is that the mind does not always catch up with the body. Even after losing a significant amount of weight, I found myself staring into the mirror and seeing the same insecurities. The weight had changed, but many of the thoughts had not. I had spent so many years believing that thinness would magically unlock confidence that I was shocked when it didn’t. The voice that had spent years criticizing me simply found new things to criticize.

That realization was one of the hardest parts of the journey. I had worked so hard. I had accomplished goals I once thought were impossible. Yet there were days when I still struggled to feel beautiful. Days when I still compared myself to other women. Days when I still questioned whether I was enough.

I am consciously trying to change things. I am learning how to reconnect with myself outside of my weight.

Sometimes that looks surprisingly simple. Sometimes it means putting on a dress that makes me feel good and spending a few extra minutes doing my makeup. Not because I am trying to hide myself or become someone else, but because those small acts remind me that I am allowed to enjoy being me.

There are moments I catch my reflection unexpectedly and see something I hadn’t noticed in a long time. A spark.

Not because I looked thinner. Not because I reached some perfect goal. But because I look happy. Comfortable. Present.

In those moments, I remembered that confidence was never hiding inside a number. It was hiding underneath years of self-criticism. It was waiting beneath all the rules and expectations I had attached to my appearance.

The truth is that society teaches many women to believe that their bodies are their greatest source of value. We are encouraged to shrink ourselves, compare ourselves, and constantly strive for a version of perfection that never seems to arrive. We are taught that beauty opens doors and that being desirable somehow makes us more deserving.

Yet some of the most remarkable women I know are not remarkable because of their waist size. They are remarkable because of their kindness, intelligence, resilience, humor, creativity, and strength. The things that make them unforgettable have nothing to do with the number on a tag inside their clothing.

I have spent years learning—and unlearning. Learning how to care for my body while unlearning the belief that it determines my worth. Learning how to pursue health without making perfection the goal. Learning that confidence is something I build from within rather than something I earn through weight loss.

Most importantly, I have learned that my life does not need to begin after I become thinner.

I do not need to wait to wear the dress.

I do not need to wait to take the picture.

I do not need to wait to pursue opportunities, relationships, adventures, or dreams.

My worth is not suspended until I reach a certain size.

Neither is yours.

The space my body occupies has never determined the space I deserve to take up in the world. My waistline does not measure my kindness. My weight does not dictate my potential. My appearance does not define the depth of my character.

I am more than a number on a scale. And the moment I began believing that was the moment I finally started feeling free. And even though I still struggle. Even though I have my days where I let those negative opinions and thoughts drown out my spark. I know that I am worth taking up space. I am worth being unapologetically me.