I wish I could tell you I've always been proud of my body. That I felt good in clothes. But being overweight sucks. I can't tell you how many times I've looked at the size 0 rack and just wanted to cry. Having positive digits as a dress size has always haunted me.
I started to see a therapist about my "body dysmorphia" – a condition that mothers use to help their fat, size 2+ daughters feel better about their whale-like bodies. She said that I should try to do exercises that make me feel better about myself. Things like yoga, meditation, and art therapy. That all seemed like bullshit to me.
So instead, I decided to do meth. When I'm high, I don't worry about my body. I worry about how I'm going to scale that brick wall to find the Wizard to give me more magic juice. And that in turn has made me love my disgusting body because it can now at least scale a fucking brick wall!
And I heard it also helps you lose weight. We'll see if my stomach becomes so concave it ceases to exist!