When did how much I weigh determine my value?

When did my existence take up too much space?

When did shrinking myself to appease others become acceptable?

When did starving myself become an accomplishment?

When did the indents on my skin become any less beautiful?

When did the scars on my body become any less exquisite?

When did I learn that being with someone whom I despise is better than being alone?

When did being a woman become a disgrace?

When did my body become any less human?

When did loving myself become a crime?