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Writers Week

I have something to confess. I am a self-proclaimed health nut. I spend far too much time
and money in whole foods, I hoard protein bars in my purse and I thoroughly enjoy eating those
leafy green tree-like things that people tend to gag from. Vegetables. I scruntize food labels like a
detective looking for clues and don't even get me started about my peanut butter obsession. I may
or may not own 10 different jars and may or may not have secretly hid them in the bottom
drawer right below the oven where the pots and pans "use to be." Whoops. I'm always in the
kitchen with a whisk in my hand, whole wheat flour on my nose, baking up one of my many
Pinterest recipes. And although people give me weird looks when I eat my tofu salad in public, I
fully embrace my proclivity for eating nutritious food. Yet my story wasn't always this bright and
my relationship with food wasn't always this great. My passion for nutrition stemmed from a
dark time in my life back in eighth grade when I was diagnosed with anorexia. Sorry to dim the
mood. Im not really here to advocate healthy eating. Im not here to take away the school lunch
cookies or make the portions smaller. S/O to Michelle Obama for that one. Im here to tell my
story, to inspire people, to touch someone in some way. So here goes nothing.
I have been athletic and thin my whole life. Playing everything from basketball to softball
to soccer. You name it, Ive probably played it and thanks to my metabolism Ive never even had
a second thought about my weight, well at least until the beginning of 8th grade year when my
whole life changed. I was at the doctors getting my yearly check-up when I was told to get on the
scale. Wow Katie! Youve managed to put some meat on your bones. 16 pounds since last
year! He then proceeded to ask my mom jokingly What have you been feeding her?umm
thanks? Little did he know that comment stung me. I was already self conscious enough being a
13 year old girl. Relatively quickly I dismissed his comment and went with my life. Flash
forward to a couple months later of 8th grade when things just got tough in my life and suddenly
everything felt out of control. I struggled with self-confidence and anxiety. I acquired a little
voice in my head that told me I would never be good enough. That nobody cared about me.
Being a perfectionist, I needed to feel like I had some control over my life again. Thinking back
to the doctors comment, I realized there was one thing I could control: Food. It started out with
just eliminating junk food from my diet, but in no time it turned into a full blown eating disorder.
I began restricting myself to under 1000 calories a day, aware of every little morsel I was putting
into my mouth. I was never satisfied as the pounds started to melt off. My hair started to fall out,
I felt cold all the time, and my body was clearly emancipated. My ribs protruded and my cheeks
were sunken. There was no longer that sparkle in my eyes. I started hiding in the bathroom stalls
during lunch at school crying my eyes out, knowing I was killing myself with what I was doing,
but for some reason I couldnt stop. Demons filled my mind. I was no longer Katie anymore. I
was no longer the fun-loving girl I knew. It wasnt until I started having extreme stomach pains
before my parents started to truly notice. I needed help. I needed it badly. The doctor noticed I
had lost over 15 pounds within a couple of months and I was sent to the hospital immediately

and had to have a feeding tube in me. My heart rate was dangerously low and it could have
stopped at anytime. That is when my eyes opened to the hell I was putting my body through.
That is when I realized things had to change.
Recovery was one of the longest and hardest things I have ever been through and it took
years before I even came close to it. It is like riding a roller coaster that never stops. I had days
where I felt like I was on top of the world and I had other days where I felt myself slipping
deeper and deeper into my old depression, not knowing if I would ever live a normal life again.
But I slowly learned that sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the
biggest step of your life. I fought and fought. Every single day I fought. Slowly but surely I
overcame anorexia. One of the top female killers effecting every 1 and 3 women and I overcame
it by myself and I have never been so proud. I cant tell you why eating disorders develop, but I
do know you cant just choose to have one. Its a mental disease. Personally, I blame my
perfectionism, my need to be the best at everything I do, and most of all this horrible society we
live in. When did society get this way? Girls are ashamed at their bodies and made to believe that
theyre not supposed to love them. They are made to believe that they arent perfect and they
need to work on it that they need to diet to look like the unrealistic models in magazines and
wanna know what I think? I think thats freaking ridiculous. The people who arent afraid to
display all their quirks and imperfections, the people who love themselves for WHO THEY
ARE, yeah those are the MOST beautiful people. Standing here today, telling my story, although
it might not seem like a big deal to some people, is a HUGE deal to me. Its helped me realize
that I dont have to hide my past anymore. I can impact other peoples lives. Last year, I started a
blog telling my story on social media and the comments I receive daily from girls telling me that
I saved their lives, that Im their inspiration, that is how I know going through all this was worth
it. Being able to help other people is indescribable. Its like having a fireplace inside of your
body that never stops burning. It warms your soul. It gives you a sense of serenity and
accomplishment. Going through all this has created this strength in me that I never knew had
even existed. I truly believe everything happens for a reason. Without hard times we wouldnt
have people who change the world. Life would be all rainbows and unicorns and although that
would be great, we all know that is complete opposite of reality. Bad things happen to good
people. Each and every single person in this room has a story even if its not apparent. A story of
loss, a story of disaster, a story of hopelessness, a story that we hide inside of us because if we
told anyone, god forbid they might think we come across as weak. Why is weakness just a bad
thing? Let me ask you this: Now that Ive exposed my story, now that I have taken off my layers,
do I appear weak to you?! The strongest people are made from adversity. The people who
crumble and fall a million times yet manage to pull themselves up again and again, yeah those
are the people I look up to. From overcoming my eating disorder, I have become the strongest I
have ever been both mentally and physically. I have found my passion for running, which I might
include how I just committed to run at a D1 college next year and far more importantly I will be
pursuing a degree in nutrition where I will be able to further help people. I guess you could say
that I wanna be that girl that changes the world. No. I WILL be that girl.

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