Whenever I see people trolling a woman because they're concerned about her weight for "health" reasons, it makes my blood boil. At my thinnest points in life, I was also the most unhealthy I had ever been. When I've been "Oh my God, you look great"‌‌thin, I was deeply, painfully insecure. I was frantic, and lonely, and so incredibly sad. Everything I did to get thin was about being something that looked good, instead of someone who felt okay.

There was a time when my body, as it looks today, would have made me feel worthless. Over time, however, I have learned that my body and I are one, and there's more to our story than the way we look in our jeans. We have a sweet child snuggled up to our soft, squishy tummy, and that baby thinks we're the safest place she'll ever be.

We're not doing so bad, after all.

So, spare me the miracle pills, the delicious shakes, the workout plans, and the open-ended questions about how I make time for my health. I'll get to the gym when it's safe, I eat salad every day, and I'm sober.

Believe me when I say: I'm a god-damned cheetah. I've got this.