I love to work out. But don’t get it twisted — it didn’t start with me waking up one morning like, “Yes, let me become a fitness queen.” No, it started with a tiny comment in 3rd grade that hit me harder than a dodgeball to the face. My mom — sweet, innocent, kimchi-powered mom — said I was “a little overweight.” Not mean, just matter-of-fact. But to an 8-year-old, that’s like dropping a Beyoncé-level mic on my self-esteem. That one comment sent me spiraling into insecurity faster than you can say “extra small.”

I love to work out. But don’t get it twisted — it didn’t start with me waking up one morning like, “Yes, let me become a fitness queen.” No, it started with a tiny comment in 3rd grade that hit me harder than a dodgeball to the face. My mom — sweet, innocent, kimchi-powered mom — said I was “a little overweight.” Not mean, just matter-of-fact. But to an 8-year-old, that’s like dropping a Beyoncé-level mic on my self-esteem. That one comment sent me spiraling into insecurity faster than you can say “extra small.”