#fat acceptance

Twelve years old, awkward and overweight, I marveled when AOL dial-up arrived on our family PC. That first afternoon when the irresistible, and not yet cliched, announcement “You've got mail!” occurred, I wandered into a teen message board where I chatted with, allegedly, twin 14-year-old girls ...

I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of tearfully explaining to a salesgirl that, no, the largest size in her ultra-trendy boutique won’t fit your fat ass no matter how many times she nods encouragingly and shoves clothes at you, but that’s a glimpse of what my life was like working and ...

I’m lying on a tiny couch in a tiny apartment with a friend of a friend who I’m beginning to like. More specifically, I’m lying under this friend of a friend. We’re kissing (and doing a pretty good job at it), and everything up until this point has been swell: the booze and some good conversation

I've been big as long as I can remember. Even though I played soccer as a kid, danced in audition-only children's shows, and ran a nine-minute mile in PE, I was always big. My parents — San Francisco yuppie types — fed me a steady diet of farmers market vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins

The other night I had dinner with my youngest brother. It was a nice, mellow evening, and I stopped by Insomnia Cookies on my way home to get up some decadent, warm chocolate cookies to share with my roommate. On the train clutching my box of tasty, I was bothering no one and reading my book when a