It is no secret that since I became sick and was stuck on prednisone for months that I began to hate my body. After all, I’m up about 30 pounds from where I was nearly two years ago and I lost a lot of muscle that I had worked so hard to gain. I never acknowledged to myself how much I hate my body until I was out for a walk tonight. My hatred isn’t just for the weight gain or loss of muscle. It comes from a feeling of betrayal: my body tried to kill me. My immune system malfunctioned and for some miraculous reason, I survived months of physically challenging work in heels without internally bleeding to death.