I was the fat kid growing up. Not that I was ever really fat. The Renaissance era would have considered my slightly curvy body to be quite the norm, if not even attractive. But alas, we’re living in a postmodern society that reveres stick-figures and gives the rest of us a chocolately chip frappuccino to drown our sadness in. And …
Imagine what life would be like if… you could skip the brownies without feeling deprived? you felt peace and freedom at potluck dinners? you conquered the cravings that have mastered you for so long? For many of us, that life is a fantasy, something we look forward to around New Year’s Eve and swimsuit season, only to be crushed by defeat a few days later. …
I had resigned myself to a lifetime of yo-yo diets, guilt, deprivation, shame, and defeat. “I guess this is my thorn in the flesh,” I’d sigh as I’d walk toward the dessert table at a baby shower. I envied the stick-thin women with crazy metabolisms who ate whatever they wanted and still looked like skinny teenagers. But even more I envied …
