On Hating—and I Mean Really Hating—Working Out

For as long as I can remember, body-image issues have been my thing. Crying and pinching my stomach in front of the mirror at age nine; EDNOS from 12 through 16; calorie restriction, binge exercise, and a diet of grilled chicken and arugula at 20; a steel-reinforced armor of self-deprecating jokes and a falsified DGAF attitude today, at 23. At my lowest (during the Year of Arugula), I weighed 89 pounds. Now, I hover in the 130 range. Needless to say, I have a terrible, terrible relationship with food and exercise. And you know what everyone, from a string of ...

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