Coming home from the World Race a little over a year ago was weird. In so many ways. As I’ve mentioned before, I arrived home loving myself and my body for the first time in years, and it felt great. And because I felt so great, I was heartbroken to watch the women around me struggle with self-hatred. I had been in a sort of isolation for those eleven months I was away. Without access to television commercials, magazines, billboards, or a full length mirror, I had nobody but God and an incredible group of loving friends to help shape my identity. And then, I came back to America. And…