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For the Girls Who Cannot See Themselves

I hold in my hands a mirror. I hold it up to you, but you wince and look away. Or, you find, with lightning speed, the needle in the haystack that won’t stop pricking you, and calling you ugly, fat, unworthy. Your eyes find the needle immediately, but they are blind to the scars it creates.

It’s not an eating disorder if you can’t see it.