I was 11 years old the first time an adult pointed out a dimple on my leg. I could feel the heat of embarrassment flush my cheeks as I tried to melt into the floor. Something was wrong with me. Up until that point I had never given my body much thought. I loved my body, it served a purpose. I grew up with 4 brothers.  I was an athlete and a tomboy.  I could keep up with any boy in the neighborhood in a pick up game of basketball or baseball and I had always felt strong.  I ate what I wanted with little thought. 

That one thoughtless comment by an adult at the age of eleven led me down a long journey of battling eating disorders, body dysmorphia and low self-esteem.

My belief that there was something wrong with me was solidified a few months later while at a slumber party with friends. The girls decided to weigh themselves. I had never given much thought about what I weighed. The only time I had been on a scale was at a doctors office. When my turn came, I stepped...