Look how chubby your thighs are. How could you leave the house in that skirt? Your hips are huge. Your stomach is spilling out. Suck in your gut. Lift up your jaw. Her arms are skinnier than yours. You could never wear those jeans.
If a friend spoke to you like this day in, day out, you might punch them in the face within a week. But this is how I used to speak to myself, all the time, until rounds of therapy worked on my intrusive thoughts, self-esteem and disordered eating as a young adult. It was gruelling, but I got there and enjoyed years unplagued by the bully in my head. Then, as weight loss jabs emerged, the voice got louder again.
