Some compelling excerpts from Fat Girl:
"Food is the enemy. Food is also the mother, the father, the warm-hearted lover, the house built of red brick."
"When I am really fat, as opposed to medium or mildly fat, I have trouble pulling on pantyhose, even pantyhose made for fat women. I sit on my bed to put on pantyhose. When I am really fat, I have to lean over my enormous stomach to get at my feet, so as to start pulling the flimsy stockings on. I huff and puff and sweat and get breathless. If I am not careful, I tear the stocking, or, if the pantyhose don't have enough give, then when I stand and pull the waistband up over my thighs and my stomach and buttocks, the pantyhose get long vertical runs and I have to take them off and get out a new package and start again. Sometimes I get the pantyhose pulled up, but I am too big for them and the waistband won't go farther than my crotch. I toss these and get out another pair. By this time sweat has run down from under my arms and from between my breasts. I am angry by this time too, and ashamed, and disgusted for being such a grotesque and grunting hog. I am red in the face, wet with sweat and slightly sick to my stomach."
"I sat at the edge of the couch, legs slightly apart. My elbows were on my knees; I was hunched and full of sorrow. I wore a loose cotton nightgown. My breasts hung down inside the gown and swayed. I spooned into my mouth the first chilly strawberry dollop. Cream melted on my tongue, which didn't take long, because the ice cream was soft. I spooned in another bite. I wanted to say to the ice cream, 'I love you.' I wanted to say, 'You are my mother.' I wanted to whimper, 'Mama, Mama, Mama.' I
wanted to weep."