The me that looked my “best” was a me that smoked, was underfed, ran high with anxiety, didn’t get enough sleep, and still never felt good enough. And gradually, whatever that machine was and whatever adrenaline was fueling it began to break down, and I just couldn’t do it anymore, hence, health camps. It was around that time that I began to wonder, At what point is it okay to stop trying to “look exactly the same”?
