I hate the way I look and always have. I was a heavy kid (though by current standards, I would have been considered "average") and got bigger in college, until I was a size 16 and miserable. I wore a 38DD, had a 37-inch waist and 45-inch hips, and thighs like tree trunks. During my last year of college, I decided I was tired of being a 200 lb. blob that got winded going up a flight of stairs and decided to exercise and eat better. Now, I'm 148 lbs. and shrunk everything down to size 6 (if that weight seems high for a size 6, it's because I build muscle like a dude). Sounds great, right? It's not. I look in the mirror and I still see the fat chick staring back at me. I see the soft, droopy, deflated breasts that are mostly skin, the lumpy, cellulite-ridden thighs, my enormous ass, a pudgy stomach, and a zebra's-worth of stretch marks on my inner arms and hips. My husband has been telling me for years that I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and that he loves my body, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to believe that.