Sixteen years ago I was a slave to bulimia, prompted by the labels of others. My bulimia lasted for about a year, and during that time, I destroyed so much of my body.

I actually lost track of how much weight I dropped, and I noticed that my friends, who initially encouraged me to lose weight, stopped being so critical. I did not realize then that it was because I had become a walking skeleton. I had gone from loving the person in the mirror to hating the reflection that stared back me.

It all began with the semester I studied in Spain as an undergraduate college student. There, I lost weight, challenged by the food of my host family.

When I returned to America, I happily returned to eating pizza, ice cream sandwiches and french fries. Then, some of my friends who had initially complimented my thinner frame, were now criticizing my "chubby" look.