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Jenna

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http://fattiboombalatti.tumblr.com/
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Role Models
I've always had difficulty with how answer this question. I always fidgeted and fussed trying to come up with some profound and literary name of reference... some shining exemplar of a human who I could model my actions towards. In fact, for me, my role models are ordinary people during my day: my roommate who ran a slice of pizza over to a recently widowed man, the woman who drives down my alley every few days to throw handfuls of dry food to the feral and forgotten cats, the people who pass you buy and are the first to smile, the guy who I saw help a blind man across the street. All these gorgeous moments of human magnificence are my role models reminding me to stay Awake. Alive. and Connected.
Distinguishing Characteristics
That red headed girl in your class who keeps raising her hand in class and getting on your nerves? Yeah... that's probably me. I recently found my 2nd grade progress report and in the teacher's notes it stated that "Jenna certainly is opinionated." It wasn't until...yeah for real... about 2 years ago did I realize that that was not a compliment. I still take it as one, though!
Fashion Style
I loves me some fashion oh aye that I do. I cannot just wear a slack and shirt combo and you almost never ever ever catch me in jeans and a t shirt thats just not how I jellyroll... I need patterns, belts, layers! Skirts, dresses... I dont pack "clothes" honey, I pack ensembles. Boring is so OUT!

Posts by Jenna:

Significant Others and The Road to Acceptance

My boyfriend. My handsome, wonderful, perfect in so many ways boyfriend. Is on a diet. Not that he CALLS it a diet. However, I, Queen of Recovering Diets that I am, know better. My boyfriend is on the very slim side, he is a bit on the taller side of normal but would be considered quite thin if we look at his weight. I know that I weigh more than him. I was at his weight for about 10 minutes.

After the holidays BF started revving up his strength training and exercise at home and I am all for it! Good for you feeling better, getting stronger and all that. With it though, he started reading this “Men’s exercise book” which says, “cut down on carbs.” When I asked him how the heck he was going to accomplish that as a vegetarian he said he would eat more eggs and cheese and milk. When told him that I thought he weighs little as it his response was, “It’s not about weight it’s about fat.” So… fat… is bad? Is this another one of those, “Jeez I am 20 pounds I am SO fat (grabs molecule of skin), look at all this FAT” while I stare on in incredulity with my ice cream cone and elastic skirt. Really? Darling is that what this is?

Less whole grains, less rice, less potatoes, less bread more eggs, more cheese more milk. Hmm…okay. How that sounds like a healthy switch is totally beyond me…

When I asked him, “As you know honey I have been working hard and blogging about size acceptance and body acceptance and that I have given up dieting… how do you rectify supporting me in this if you are trying to ‘lose fat’?” His reply? “Well, men’s and women’s bodies are different.”

Wow. Wow I mean, there is SO MUCH here, right?

It is really hard for me not to try to sabotage this. I give him articles, we talk about body acceptance we talk about dieting but he is, “not on a diet”. He is just “watching his carbs” he is just “watching what he eats it isn’t a diet.” When you refuse the food I cooked with my own hands to nourish you, it’s a diet.  When you don’t want to go out cause of the carbs, it’s a diet. When I am changing how I cook to accommodate you HONEY IT’S A DIET. And… they don’t work! It’s like I am more intellectually offended more than anything else, like what I blogged about earlier? You talk and talk and talk and people nod their heads but really it’s as if they are not physically capable of hearing you.

I am offended that he would read some loser book (muscle manwich whatever BLERGGG!!) which is just like ALL THE OTHERS and take that over the piles of scientifically rigorous data that I have been extolling for months about diet, body types, exorcize and health.  Like, really? Do you think I am not smart enough? Do you think maybe there is too much womanly fat betwixt my ears? Do you think I am kidding myself?!?!

I haven’t confronted him on all this cause it’s his body, you know? I do not want to dictate peopl’s choices about their bodies…I just wished that while he can accept my body he could accept his own cause I think it’s a sex machine built for my pleasure and I love him as he is. I wish that he would at least internalize some of the data I have shared with him so I do not feel like I’ve been talking to a wall these past few months. I wish I did not now assume  that he is with me but he sees past the fat…. I know I should not take it personal… but you bet I do.

Also, I am watching him restrict, then binge and eat more than he normally does. In short becoming the classic case of a cycling dieter and how that messes up our metabolism and our body cues. From an objective perspectiveit is interesting watching him do what all those scientists say happen to dieters!

UGHHHH I am so conflicted about this. There is so much here I need to tease out and consider but for now I just wanted to share with you what I am struggling with right now.

And honey? If you read this don’t get mad I love you… I just need to get this off my chest with the people on my team.


The Unsinkable Jenna Brown

ahhh the old “my size is larger than yours” deal
Lately on some blogs and sites I’ve been getting some flack because I am only a size 14. In fact, let me share a response with you dear readers, it was about my introduction post and about self acceptance:
“It is easier to accept oneself as ‘fat’ if one is a size 14 than if one is a size 20 or 26. I would LOVE to be a size 14.”

Now, this response made me feel discounted, trivialized and unwelcome because I am not “fat” enough. So I guess I have run into what other inbetweenie women such as myself have talked about when joining the FA and Intuitive Eating spheres of le’ realm.
There are several things going on here that I want to address and talk about dearest readers.
1. The ol’ “my story is worse than yours so stuff it” argument. This argument can be heard in many self help groups, AA circles and what not where people vie for who has it worst.
2. Your problem is not big enough to warrent my empathy or concern because you have it better than me, aka the “poor little rich girl” syndrome.
3. You dont know how I am feeling, you cant possibly understand how hard it is to accept oneself at my size because you are only a size 14.
Now… I have been anywhere from a size 10 (for about as many minutes) to a size 20. At the age of 12 I was going to Lane Bryant. I can list the fat girls litany here as well as anyone else full of its own heartbreak, denial and self loathing. But the sentence above seeks to create barriers, draw lines in the sand, fails to empathize with the trials and experiences of another and in short speaks to the pain that this person is going through.
The funny thing is at size 20 I was miserable. At size 10 I was miserable. At size 14 I was miserable. I have come to realize that my HAPPINESS WAS CONSTANTLY TIED TO A SIZE THAT WAS LACKING. In fact, my being miserable really had NOTHING to do with my size at all. Once I started through the FA movement to unhinge my self worth, my acceptance, nay my outright love and respect for my body started to grow within me. My goal here is to firmly lock in that constant positive self regard that is unchangeable to the ebbs and flows of my weight. This. Yes THIS is my goal finally realized after years of hatred, denial, you name it.
It is also through this perspective that I must try my hardest to stay in tune with the challenges and life stories of another. If a person who is a size 4 in in pain enough where she is starving her self, or the guy who is a size 52 pant won’t leave the house. Both people are in pain and both are deserving of my empathy, respect as a human being and concern that they are in distress. I dont want to discount ANYONE or push them away by making them feel their experience is irrelevant.
I just don’t want to get into these kinds of ego/control issues with others in group. I want to feel like others will respect my feelings and story in the same way I will for theirs.


Friends and Sundry

My best friend of 5 years is beautiful. She is a size 16. Men are constantly, I mean CONSTANTLY hitting on her. She is not for lacking in the looks department in any objective sense of the word. Not that she sees it, though, She only ever, EVER talks about her weight. We used to do that together, it was a common theme. But I stopped. I got better. I am healing. I tell her about Heath at Every Size. I tell her about Intuitive Eating. She joins Weight Watchers (for like the 5th time in as many years), “oh this time they don’t even COUNT fruits or vegetables… you can have as many as you WANT.” I tell her I don’t want to talk about dieting. She keeps talking about dieting. We go out for breakfast. She tells me she doesn’t want a mimosa (I’d rather save my points for eating). But as always happens when you starve yourself you play games, later she orders a bloody mary. Maybe the tomato juice doesn’t count? So anyway.

I feel like I have left a sick and sadistic cult, a cult most of my friends and family are still in. I now look in from the outside and see it for the depravity it is I try to tell my loved ones but they aren’t ready. I’m afraid of losing my best friend over this.

My best friend is a photographer and she is getting pretty good, too. Her pictures though are of all rail thin models with big boobs in bikinis, empty eye’d and two dimensional. She invited me to a shoot one day but I told her, “You know, I am really working on body diversity and size acceptance and to watch you and all those other photographers (the rest of which are men) would not be good for my development at this time.” I want to tell my best friend how her hobby is hurting her, too. I want to tell her she is beautiful and she should photograph women of all sizes and ages like her, like us. I want to tell her I am disappointed in her choice and that I thought she was different. I am struggling with judging her over it.

It is like she is unable to hear me. She is unable to really HEAR what I have to say. I have noticed that about a lot of people in my life when I talk about these topics. It is like we left the cult and we try to make our loved ones see… but they are so brainwashed it is like what we are saying is so out of the realm of their experience or understanding… it is as it they are physically incapable of hearing us.

I keep telling her I cannot listen to diet talk but she persists. Its like a contest of needs. Can I surpress my triggering and listen to her when she wants to engage in diet talk? It feels like a battle of wills and I really do not want to play anymore. These boundaries are so intermingled I am not sure how to negotiate this and it is hard for me, I’ve done a lot of GREAT progress in body acceptance this year and the results in my psyche have been amazing. But I’m not there yet.

I feel like a person who goes to AA who just cant hang out with drinking friends yet. That. yes that is how it feels.

Except the BIG difference being that people in AA are accepted and celebrated for getting clean and healthy. While we who give up dieting are looked at with derision, disgust and misunderstanding, it is not seen my the greater world that this too is a health choice. a sanity choice. .  Except here in the fatosphere… otherwise forget it.

Please keep working. Keep trying. I need you, too.


Meta Syndromes

Please stop telling me about your New Year’s Resolutions.  There is no pride in your shame

As if this conversation were about how you are lacking, how you think I might actually look on in

Approval when you tell me you have lost weight or going to or maybe how

Management scares you with Metabolic Syndrome and you should jump on board with their plan.

Cause I wanna teach you about how lovely you are. like

a kitten like a cloud at dawn like the rolling sea…are you gonna tell me those waves are too fat? The Moon too rounded? That boulder afflicted with too much lump?

Cause I won’t give you… approval for a maybe–someday you…  What.

Surprised? you get no smile. no head nod. no glib remark about lunch’s largesse…nu uh!

How DARE you believe yourself anything besides the Perfect Now-ness of You?

While you are busy with that madness. I whisper sweet dalliances to your body, a terrorist perhaps in your time of brainwashing but really I like to call myself

the freedom fighter for

your soul.


fatty travel anxiety

Tomorrow my sweetie is taking me to the Dominican Republic for a well deserved all inclusive get away. Since xmas “aint my thing” and its cold as a witches’ titty outside this is really going to be a fantastic week filled with eat, drink, sun, sea my baby and me.

However I find myself in the same place I always find myself when about to embark on something different and new… I undergo fatty travel anxiety. For me that means trying on every single outfit combination I have with really unhealthy thoughts and fears about being judged or feeling out of place. In particular I am thinking of all the predominantly Euro women parading around with topless chests and oh I want tanned twins but worry about what other might think of me. I worry about my BF comparing me to others and maybe finding me lacking I worry about… well just my fat. Normally and in my normal day to day operations this is something that I have been conquering but the thought of a tropical get away and the anxieties therein have caused some of my old patterns to rear their ugly head… especially in light of now tight clothes from the summer because I have gained weight… the gains have mostly to do with a very overpacked schedule and no time to make healthy choices… as well as a very high stress lifestyle.
How I am conquering this is by first, being gentle with myself seeing, ok I am up a size so the hell what? I am still beautiful still me… and that gain has nothing to do with my self worth or my worthiness to others. And then I kick myself because I am trying to compensate for kicking myself for gaining the weight… then I realize the circular argument is hurting me… like meditation I need to recognize the thoughts them let them go.
My other secret weapon is Hilda. Do you know Hilda? She has become my personal avatar of sorts as I am working going from the diet life to the LOVE life. Hilda is a 1950s pinup girl… the ONLY plus size pin up girl and she is gorgeous. She runs she swims, paints,fishes, rides a bike nope she is no woman on a couch she is no object of art as her beauty is motion and emotion and all the wonderful simple joys of living. When I found her I was like, holy crap she looks just like me, body hair and all and especially that sassy attitude!
This is the best website I can find which talks about her in depth and the artist who created her along with the most comprehensive gallery that I found on the net (but if you know of one with more please share).
So tomorrow and next week I am going to remember Hilda and how adorable she is and how adorable I am whenever I feel anxious shy. Om Hilda Om!


My Heart Shakes the Ground Greater

There was a time when

love was rare for me because

I thought love to be like starlight unable to

penetrate all my fat

Superman had nothing on these rolls

even kryptonite could not sink past

the layer of loath and into my

red beating soul, actually a bird on the wing

breathless from the flight and looking for somewhere to

land and be still

There was a time when

maybe some boy liked me but I ran past him fearing

more hateful words I believed them when they said the ground shook

when I fell, my mass, able to realign gravity, when rocks were

thrown at me I believed concern was reserved for

the dainty and small

I was the schoolyard Orca

thick enough to take the abuse, I spent every day alone on the expansive

playground singing to gulls and listening

to wind bending grass. Inside me gentle I heard things they did not

There was a time when I could not touch

my body it didn’t exist and I wore the hell out of that

fuschia sweater 3 sizes too big I thought it hid until

a high school teacher asked me (and it usually only takes one) why dont

you ever smile, Jenna?

There was a time my lips cracked but I

smiled and never stopped from that time and so

when I walk I don’t

look at the sidewalk anymore. I meet eyes cause

they burned all the fear off already once the boiling

point: impurities rarefy leaving steel cause nothing can

do what has not already been done. And I am still here.


Love is Not Something You Should Have to Earn

I very rarely watch TV, I do not pay for cable or satellite so I am capable of constructing a reality that supports me and my vision of what is right and true for me. Every eon or so I turn on regular TV and each time I find it more shocking then the last. The other day I happened to find myself watching Dr.Ph*l and he was interviewing people for the new TV show Bridal Plasty where brides to be compete for plastic surgery and a dream wedding. There was one fiance interviewed who wasn’t on the show but she was invited on because she refuses to get married until she loses 40 pounds. Her fiance and father of her child loves her, thinks she is beautiful just the way she is but she refuses to get married until she can reclaim the pre-baby slimness she knew as a young girl.

Honestly, the first thought that same to me was, “Thank God I am not this woman.” Due to  my work with fat acceptance and body diversity I will no longer delay living my life for a body I do not own. Thank God I am in a place of acceptance and enjoyment of my body. I have miraculously stopped the insanity producing sadness which is the core of the rejection of self. This poor woman has had her self image so totally held hostage by society at large, by the media, by impossible standards she is blinded by it to the point where she cannot allow herself to marry her fiance…. her self hatred is crowding out all the love.

How many times have we crowded out love in our lives because we felt unworthy of being loved? Who have we pushed away because deep down we thought we did not deserve goodness in our lives? We sabotaugue all those little mercies and joys, ruin them in our self defeat then say, “See? I told you I was not worth….” the devil sitting on our shoulder wins.

So many people are operating from a place of lack. So many people find lack within themselves. It’s no surprise that people feel this way when we have been bombarded from an early age and live within a society whose main industrial standard is, “you lack something = here buy this something and feel better!” We have been convinced at depth that we are fundamentally not ok.

So when you and I are working to unhinge the self from the paradigm of lack by saying, “My luscious body is not only acceptable it is god damn hot!” The very act of finding yourself whole is a revolutionary act. And society works so hard to pull you back into its disease, it throws every weapon it has: public shame, disgust, humiliation… you name it. This paradigm wants you to believe you are unworthy of love, success, competence the whole thing… until you conform, until you buy, until you diet. You are not worthy of marriage or love until you get plastic surgery, until you lose weight.

But we know those lists of wants never diminish, we would never reach a state of sanity… until we let go… stop the madness! And say, yes, myself, I accept, yes my body I accept, yes my lovely beating heart yes I am fine just the way that I am. Then just like those late nights where worries loom so large and you are tossing about in your bed then dawn comes and in the bright light of of day all those fears dissipate… yes everything IS totally OK.

I sincerely hope one day the dawn breaks for the bride I talked about. So much… for her and for so many others.


Dear World, my body is not political commentary or any of your business, really.

I work at a University and deal almost exclusively with international students. I’ve also lived in several countries and found in those countries and my international students in general find it ok to comment on the ups and downs of my weight in ways that as an American I find very uncomfortable to hear. Over the years it has never gotten easier the easy frankness they have with pointing out the weight of others. I remember China was the worst. It was an unholy nightmare for the squishy fattie such as myself.  I stepped off the plane and immediately felt like a Sasquatch.

In China, I was laughed out of shoe stores, waved out of clothing stores and since I studied Chinese in school I could easily hear the comments about how fat I was on the bus on the street… my body was some kind of laughingstock… the proof of the fat and lazy American right there before their very eyes. Holy hell if I ever thought it was bad back home the US ain’t got nothing on the completely forthright questions such as, “Why are you so fat? Where did you get those clothes? They are ugly. What is wrong with your face? (I have freckles)” China took what little self esteem I had managed to gather around myself over the years and ran it right into the ground. It made me hate that country. It made me throw away years of learning a difficult language because I knew I could never go back again. Towards the end of the time I had there I was stalked by a Chinese dude who wanted to take pictures of me and when I asked him why, his response was, “Because you are so fat.” I had to leave under cover of early morning to get away from him to the airport.

But it isn’t only China; every country I’ve encountered has held something similar. My first day teaching in Turkey I was told by one of my students that he could help me with my weight problem as he was a physical therapist as a day job. In Korea I had students whisper about my fatness while I was within earshot… my weight was a social commentary, a political statement, a sign for everything wrong about my country which most people were pretty eager about pointing out.

Ladies and gentlemen these comments came while I was and still am… a size 14.

Mostly I got over these comments and learned to keep calm and carry on but every once in awhile my international students manage to bring these nuggets of commenting on my weight into my office. This morning (and what triggered this post) was a student I had not seen in about 4 months, she came in, gasped!, and said, “Oh my God you have lost a LOT of weight!” (In actuality I have not gained or lost weight but am about the same… as I always am). Today though I have a particularly curve loving dress long sweater combination which looks AWESOME on me. I replied to her, “No I have not changed weight at all.” Last year I had a student come see me, whom I had not seen in about a year and a half, He invited me to come to his house where his wife would could me Biriyani and I said, “I love Biriyani, thanks!” Then he looked me up and down and said in front of his son, “Wow you have really gained weight since I last saw you.” As his son stifled a laugh… the more Americanized son who understood how insulting that was to say to me.

But why do I feel like I have to say anything? Part of me is offended, “What you thought I was SO FAT before?” or if I lost a little weight… which as sure as the sun rises will come back… that you think I looked so terrible and when I regain will you again think of me in (insert whatever judgmental  thoughts you care to here) terms? When someone tells me I have lost weight I do not feel flattered in the slightest. To me in means that they have judged my body before and found it wanting. A less beautiful version of what I “could” be.


80 Calorie Princesses… BARF~!!!!

Hello my Fatabulos Princecesses and Princes,

The last few weeks I have been culminating an ever growing list of things I wanted to share with you as my emancipation from size-ism is asserting itself in ever greater ways and with firmer resolutions that indeed this is the path that is the salvation of my fat soul.
I am going to Masters classes full time, I graduate this May AND working on my thesis proposal which includes research AND working more than full time… needless to say blogging take some time management finagling of a fine degree.
So while telling myself I just don’t have the time until semester ends in early December, something crossed my path that I just HAD to share with you. My incredulity about what I witnessed… led me gaping in the granola bar aisle…

So in the midst of shopping for the week and enjoying my new HAES lifestyle (buying peanut butter and more than 150 kcal cereal in YEARS… because I, you know in my logical dysfunction, thought that was somehow maintaining my weight… ha but I digress) I turned from my granola bar perusing to see a series of chocolate snack packs marketed for children.
When you look at the box here (snapped from my cell phone) you can see its three very skinny very white  under BMI Disney “Princesses” who have even greater disproportionate hip to waist ratios than Barbie by the way… standing approvingly under a HUGE ribbon-entexted ’80 CALORIES!’ In fact that 80 calories sign is greater than any other text on the damn box. Under it in much smaller text is Chocolate pieces snack packs.

Wow…where the FUCK do I start here??? When we hear studies which show that girls the  AGE OF FIVE are already worried about their weight. Where girls the age of 8 are in proto-dieting mode. Where girls are placed on diets by their very mothers…Where most women hate their bodies, are ashamed of their bodies and the first predictor for girls is to count calories and restrict foods… this box seems designed to not only  make eating disordered thinking OK but in fact enables it where it may have not existed previously;  it teaches girls it doesn’t matter what KINDS of foods are healthy but rather its all about the calorie count, the waist, the looks, the CONFORMITY pounded into young precious minds and hearts be it fat or thin. When I was young I loved the Little Mermaid, thin, beautiful Ariel vs. Fat, undulating BAD Ursula… back then at least it wasn’t fucking spelled out but the absolute DISGUSTING, LOATHSOME AND VILE marketing of Disney and Frankford Candy Co just to make a BUCK…The pressure to be thin will be greater than ever before. The pressure to hate and shame oneself will be greater than ever before. My friend who has little girls tells me Disney Princesses are more for the girls 2-6 years of age…. really? So…either… lets break down the levels of horrid dysfunctionalism, shall we?

Little girl equates dieting and calories with acceptance before they start school. OR if they cannot read the box then MOM is worried about their TODDLER and PRESCHOOLER gaining weight enough to start them on a calorie regimien. Really? Reallly?!?!?!!?!? I am flabbergasted.
Protect your girls. Protect them with all your might. The candy above is being produced and marketed by frankfordcandy.com… a company outside of Philadelphia. I suggest you email them and tell them how horrible this candy is and let’s get it pulled from the shelves!!!!
Where is the social outrage? Would this marketing have been ok in our feminist late 60s hay day? Or 70s? 80s? No, only under the junk science hubris that weight is linked to death is linked to unhealthy is linked to epidemic which you and I know is (and I do not have hours to site all the scientific studies which completely and absolutely debunks these politically driven agenda) this kind of hysteria…. enjoys a diplomatically immune place which endeavours to damage very souls.
It’s just when my disgust and saddness level feel full to overbrimming, sweet serendipity blows my be calmed boat back on the course aright. I went to Grounds for Sculpture in New Jersey today. If you are within mild driving distance, really you MUST go to this wonderful play land full of sculptures and secret hammocks where you can shut the door and make out in a hillock of pines. Also there are curve loving works like this one. Which again brings me back to myself…sigh… yes this is the right.

Please email comments or call Frankford candy and let your outrage be known!


Mom Needs a Shout Out Today

My lovely Fatabulousnesses,
(possible trigger warning FYI)

I want to tell you today about my Mom. My beautiful, plus size, strong, ass kicking and taking names Mom. You see, my Mom and I have similar body types we are the same shape, my Mom also “fought” weight her whole life sometimes getting as far as a size 8 sometimes being something on the larger size of 16 or who knows really I don’t count the numbers but the wisdom along the way.

My Mother is an incredible inspiration to me on several fronts. First, she was a terrific Mom to have for a girl who started gaining weight at 5; she never told me to go on a diet, she never told me how fat I was or in any way EVER made me feel ashamed about my body. Those long dark nights of my suffering where death seemed a better option than to live in a body that will not conform, will not give in, will not get smaller, times where I loathed myself so much I actually used to punch my fat… my Mom was there… loving me and supporting me the whole way. She was the one who took me to Lane Bryant at 13. Growing up there was no scale in the house.

She was the one heaping constant praise about my beauty and the one I knew I could rage in my sickness of loathing and know that she would somehow get it when all others did not. My mother has been a constant bastion of love, support, incredible strength and sometimes ass kicking when I needed it along the way, but not once in my whole life did she ever tell me to go on a diet to get skinnier not once did she ever make me feel bad about my body.
Life was so hard growing up; I was bullied mercilessly nowadays I am sure that how I was treated then if it happened now… interventions would have been sought for everyone. Mom didn’t care about my size she hugged every roll; she was truly the only island I had in the great battle for my life. And for that, I am forever grateful. I truly do not know how people who dealt with childhoods like mine could have had the “extra bonus” of parents who were fat phobes.

In in my adult life my Mother continues to be an inspiration. She is the living embodiment of who I am hoping to be along the way. Without benefit of fat acceptance, the blogosphere or friends like you which bolster me; she quietly “gave up” the pot of skinniness at the end of the dieting rainbow. She stopped trying to diet. She took on the great and rewarding pleasure of loving herself. My mom, as a size 16, loves herself more, thinks she is damn hot, and accepts herself in a way none of her single digit friends have. Plus she is healthier. She has totally and on her own taken on the HAES lifestyle. She does water aerobics, she works out, she rides her bike; the last time I saw her and she stretched I was like, “Damn, Mom! Look at those guns on your arms!” and they looked so good to me I invested in some weights cause I want some guns of my own :)

I was talking to her the other day and she told me about the one time in her life that she managed to get to a size 8 in her 20s, she said, “You know I had men hitting on me all the time, but I didn’t feel right as a size 8, it wasn’t me. I was never happy.” Damn right, Mom.
May we all grow into ourselves with as much grace and acceptance and self love.


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