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Tell Me Do You Really Like Being Fat

Once upon a time, I fretted about going to a family wedding because I was ? gasp ? 142 pounds. I am five foot three. The ideal weight for me was 115 pounds using that old rule of thumb for women ? 100 pounds for the first five feet and then five pounds per inch after that. I think I was a size 11.

I still remember the dress I wore. Red and white squares in a very 70s pattern. Just past the flower child stage and slightly reminiscent of the art deco style. I was almost sick at the thought of going to the wedding looking like a whale. Ha ha ha ha. If I knew then what I know now, it would have been sheer joy. Today, my goal is to get down to 150 pounds.

I really chunked up in my thirties and decried the paternalistic pressures to be thin. I embraced my voluptuousness. I was healthy. What more did I want?

Well, I can tell you now what more I could have wanted? I could have wanted the kind of sense of self that would allow me to say to the men I met, hey, just because I am fat does not mean I am willing to settle for second best. I could have wanted to believe my own b.s. about my size. I could have wanted my blood pressure to remain low. I could have wanted to be taken seriously when I went into the boss's office to say I had a problem with a co-worker. (It was really bad and I had to say something. She was and is a very slender and attractive woman and that was the issue as far as the boss was concerned. The real issue was something else entirely but as I stood there, I saw myself as my boss saw me. Wake up call!! Woo hoo. Reality calling Joanne.

A long time ago, ironically, I studied nutrition at university. Right up to the point of taking chemistry courses to understand it. I should have studied psychology as well. I know the facts of life. Garbage in ? big fat bum.

The one thing I did do right is know that just because I am plus size, I need to wear pretty things. Still I have trouble finding pants that fit. Short legs, wide hips. Ha. Wide, did I say? Well. I was visiting this buddy of mine who is a creative genius with the sewing machine and asked him to measure me up for pants. Hips? Fifty-four inches. And I was mortified at the size 11 dress I wore to that wedding so long ago. Where did I go wrong?

I intellectualized myself into all kinds of nonsense so I have begun to intellectualize myself out of the same nonsense. I have tried so many diets over the years, I consider myself just about an expert in what works and why. Over at my Chaos Queen site, http://chaosqueen.biz, I share my best research with you, along with some ways to look gorgeous while you work your way into fine shape.

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