180+ lbs down. 8 years in the making. A lifetime of healing. The girl on the right? She was exhausted. Not just from the weight she carried physically, but from the emotional weight no one could see. The anxiety. The shame. The fear that maybe change wasn’t possible for someone like her. She was navigating insulin-resistant PCOS, burnout, and buried trauma. And still managed to smile through it all. She deserved more. And she fought for it, even when it was slow. Even when progress felt invisible. Even when it meant showing up every single day without guarantees. That version of me? I love her. I thank her. She kept going when quitting would’ve made more sense. The woman on the left? She’s still healing. Still learning. But she’s living now. She lifts heavy. She sets boundaries. She eats to fuel, not to numb. She moves from self-respect, not punishment. She no longer apologizes for taking up space, in any sense of the word. Losing weight didn’t magically fix everything, but it gav...