Being pregnant is hard. Being fat is hard. Being pregnant and fat at the same time is like trying to drink water while someone splashes it into your face before you’re ready while also shouting, “It’s for your health!”

Recently, I was pregnant while fat (you can read about it here) and then I gave birth while still fat. And now I have the world’s cutest baby! I learned so much about being a fat pregnant person in America while I 3D printed a human in my body. I also learned so much about the resources that are and are…


Baby at 10 weeks.

I spent the better part of a decade fantasizing about how amazing it was going to be to welcome in a new human to this world. I had a plan for how I wanted my pregnancy to go, a timeline for the perfect experience that would ultimately fill my life with unparalleled joy. I knew I was going to be top-notch at being pregnant, even more impressive as a mother, and ultimately, the world's most adorable and lovable grandma.

I wanted to get pregnant in my early thirties, find a midwife, and have a glorious water birth — just like…


It’s because of a fat woman.

I watched the first episode of the show not knowing what it was about and what I was about to get myself into. I went in hoping to not cringe too many times. We fat people know how to protect ourselves from the unintended sting of the media when it handles the delicate body of a fat person.

I didn’t expect a great surprise.

For the first time in my life, I saw myself in television. Not the ideal me, who is in love with her softness and cherishes the journey that brought my…


Dear Dying Mouse,

When someone first pointed you out to me, I was so scared. I wasn’t so much afraid of you, but of what someone might do to you. You were resting on our tractor nursing your tiny baby, who was curled up by your side. I told everyone to leave you alone, knowing full well that mice like you chewed up my favorite (and very expensive) air mattress last spring. I thought it was the right thing to do. …


Dear ED Voice,

I’m not sure when you started, or when you got so loud, but you’ve outstayed your welcome. You’re mean and selfish, and when I’m having a good day, I know you’re always waiting around the corner to take it away. You encourage me to delay eating because it feels good to starve. And just when I think that’s what you want me to do all the time, you tell me it’s time to eat too much, too fast. You like it when I have a hard time walking around because my stomach is too full of food…


And Calling it A “Food Style” Isn’t Helping

I’ve just about had it with diet culture.

I’m done with the rules, the counting, the anxiety, the faux-science, the article-headline-readers-who-are-now-experts that clog my social media feeds and seem to follow me around as I transition from home to work, to therapy and training. I’m exhausted of before and after pictures, lectures about good and bad foods, and how I can maximize my calorie-light meals with more kale. Most of all, I’ve had it to my eyeballs with the health blogs/instagrams/facebook groups that say they eat intuitively, but are so proud of…


Dear Body,

I know, this isn’t the first letter I’ve written you. I’m sorry the others haven’t been as kind as I had hoped they would be. I hope this one manages to be different.

I found out recently that the trouble we’ve been having with food isn’t a product of greed or ignorance. There’s a real problem there, and now that we know, we can start to fix it. There’s certainly something liberating in the knowledge that when I fill you with too much food, it isn’t because I want more, but because I want to numb the too…


Dear Old Roommate,

I think about you a lot. More than I thought I would. I thought when I walked out of that apartment from Hell, I would leave behind all the garbage you covered us in daily. I thought I would be free, and the gratitude of leaving you behind would overwhelm me. I mean, I wrote a short story about it.

I realize now that the trauma of leaving scarred me. When people talk about horror stories involving roommates, I always think of you. I tell them how you had the biggest room and claimed the living room…


Dear Grandma,

It’s me, Danielle.

I wonder if you’d recognize me, or maybe you’ve been watching me all along. I’m grown up now, which has given me perspective on who you were and what I missed out on because you left too soon.

I wish I could have a few minutes with you.

I want to know what kind of person you think I am, and possibly more important: What kind of person do you wish I thought you were?

My memory of you is of someone who worked hard, never partied, but who still got liver disease. Mom suspects…


Tonight I left weight training, as I always do on Wednesdays, and walked to the train. I raced down the stairs, and was lucky to land a D train waiting on the platform. I hopped on the last car. I usually ride in the first car, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I should have.

A seat opened up between two women after only one stop. I thought I had won the lottery — rush hour seat opens up? I can sit and read my book? The universe could be no kinder. As I…

Danielle Gregori

is a librarian and writer. You can follow her work at www.wearestorymakers.com, on instagram @awesomelibrarian or twitter @librarydefender

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