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  • Bro, I have been fat since birth. Seriously, 9lb 12oz. When I fill out the billion forms at a doctor’s office or when I’m asked about fat, that’s the honest reply. I put up a better front than I used to, and now respond when a stranger makes a comment about weight loss surgery. I just love those comments. From strangers or your third cousin on your great-grandmother’s side, “I used to be fat, but now I need to tell you…” Unless it’s during a funeral, my answer has become “Did I ask for you opinion? Mind your own business.” After that I become less pleasant. A woman at a family gathering said to me, “We’re family, so I can tell you this. If you lost even a few pounds, you’d feel better and the women would come around.” How about this reply, “You don’t know how I feel now, and as far as women coming around, when I’m around, they COME.” A tad crude, but oh how much better you will feel. For most of my life I only responded in my head. 18 months ago something magical happened. I turned 50. It was going to come whether I wanted it to or not. Instead of getting depressed, (DEPRESSION: A gift that keeps giving in my family for four generations and counting) I felt better. It came, I lived. The next day I was 50 and one day. It was so freeing. I gave myself permission to say what I feel as long as I’m not hurting anyone else. I give as good as I get. If you are nice to me, as 99% of the people are, I’m nice in return. For the one percent that are not, I might say something like, I’m sorry that you might be having a difficult day, but insulting me or trying to make me feel bad about myself is only going to make you feel worse. We all can see that you’ve had a face lift, (or fake breasts) but he’s going to continue to cheat on you. It’s not the way you look, it’s because you’re a bitch.
  • Best of luck on your book. I look forward to reading it.
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