I have an eating disorder and have had one for most of my life. When I was thin, and I mean too thin, no one questioned it. I fit the mould for youth and beauty. It wasn’t until I became morbidly obese that it was diagnosed. Pretty privilege masks many disorders.
I’ve been eating well, exercising, and reclaiming myself; and subsequently, I’ve been feeling especially fat and ugly.
So, I decided I would post what I hate/am disgusted about myself on here. Then immediately follow it up with something positive.
I thought it would be an empowering reminder that I am more than a “meat suit”. That I’m loved and valued regardless of my weight. That I’m worthy regardless of my age.
And, I also thought it would be fun to open it up for everyone to try—appropriately.
Here it goes… 
I hate my receding hairline, but that means I’ve lived long enough to start to lose it. Life is a gift. Now I can start wearing cute hats!
I hate my fat face, but it’s the face that brings comfort and peace to those who love me.
I hate my fat earlobes (meatlobes), but they’ve got the real estate to wear big and silly earrings that make people happy. Besides, the Laughing Buddha has them and he’s very loved!
I hate my fat neck, but it’s holding up a big load!
I hate my fat arms, but they’ve brought a cushy embrace to those who’ve mourned, steadied mothers on their way to say their last goodbyes, helped families move, and blocked an abusive spouse from getting to close to my sister.
I hate my pudgy scarred hands, but they’ve created beautiful works of art. Works that I thought were silly, but have come to find out are still hanging on walls 20 years later! They’ve dug deep into the soil and helped the Earth laugh flowers throughout the seasons. They’ve been God’s hands to the needy. They’ve touched and have been touched by beautiful souls.
I hate my flabby chest, but it’s endured and provided strength when I didn’t think I had any left in me.
I hate my fat belly, but it is the purrfect place to make kitty biscuits, and has been a safe space for my youngest nephews to nap against — or throw balls at for extra points. It’s also convenient to use securing things onto my lap, or using as a temporary shelf. 
I hate my wide hips, but they don’t lie. 
I hate my flabby legs, but they’ve walked miles and miles to get food for my family. They’ve searched for the lost and also have swam with dolphins. They’ve supported me through dark days and lifted me when I’ve jumped for joy. I’ve danced and danced with these legs and I’ve also defended myself (and others) with these bad boys. They are mighty like thunder and lightning.
I think that’s a good start! 
Balls in your court! 
You