Anyway, as ever, back to my chest. I often talk about it because I am so desperate to like something about myself, I'm so desperate to get better, that I almost try to convince myself that what I once took for a sign of my being fat is actually a sign of my health and so a GOOD THING. Health is good. Health is very, very good. I've never found it hard to lose weight, but why bother when it'll just shrink my chest? And my feet, incidentally. Every relapse I tend to lose a good half a shoe size. I'm an odd one, through and through.
I think what I'm trying to say, in a roundabout way, is that I'm getting there. I'm not nearly as confident as I come across, but I'm trying to fake it until I make it, because I think convincing yourself is the first step. I'm allowed to like something about myself, even if it seems shallow or unimportant, because I don't have to soak up everybody else's negativity. That's not how negativity- in this case low self esteem- works. Take the challenge- pick something you like about yourself, discover you are a likeable person, and shout it from the rooftops. Because you don't have to save the world. And even if you did have to, you can't save anyone until you've saved yourself.