“Skinny. Toothpick. Twig.” I got called those names so often it felt like they were my name I still remember the moment my uncle wrapped his thumb and index finger around my bicep and they touched I felt weak. Small. Embarrassed. My mom and aunt would joke that I was so skinny the wind could blow me away. My own brother used to call me “anorexic.” Before I started lifting, I had zero confidence. At first, fitness was just about looking less weak and building muscle so no one could call me “twig”