OK.  Certain things are taking shape the way I want them to, and I’m not just talking about my body.   I have an event in three weeks and I’m pretty confident that I’ll look and feel just the way I want to;  the money thing is going well;  and I took an absolute killer core class at my gym Wednesday.  The next day to my amazement, I noticed I have a waist!

It’s like I have two voices now; the one that’s proud to have a waist and the other one that says, “what are you going to do now, get all pretty just to satisfy cultural demands and  then let some bastards come along and abuse you again?”   It’s hard to face,  the remembering I talked about in the last post;  the strongest memory is not of being thin or being pretty, but of being devastatingly unhappy, more than at any other time, more than when I was broke or unemployed or homeless. 

Holy crap.  Regardless of my body shape, I certainly have a fat story!