by Erica Maul ‘21
Content warnings: eating disorders, body dysmorphia
I don’t have a full-length mirror at Wellesley, and this was my first time seeing the stretch marks. I’ve had plenty in my life, and they tell the story of hips sprouting from my pre-teen body several years ago. But I’ve never had them here.
Read Moreby Maggie Roberts ’20
That semester, I was reading Ulysses for an English class. I had been too anxious—for no particular reason, just mentally fried—to commit to the novel. I viewed reading it as a chore instead of as the stimulating, enjoyable challenge it should have been for me. Finally, at the end of April, when I had just about given up on myself intellectually, writing myself off as dumb as well as fat, I was able to fall in love with the novel, its creative language, its self-involved, ever-so-realistic characters. Most of all, I fell in love with Molly Bloom.
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