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death star, family orgy., meyer, lesbian manga, find, asses, boobs of pam anderson, fat bbw, susan stinson, fat trans, used books recovery and addiction, burn fat, fattit, | When I walk my buttocks grind like the turbines I once saw move water over the top of the Grand Coulee Dam." Moore doesn't feel sorry for herself, and she doesn't want you to, either. She simply wants to tell you about being fat from her point of view. And she respects herself and her reader too much to pretty things up, or hide fat fighter behind gauzy metaphors. Sometimes fat fat fighter blisters, she writes, when fat thighs rub fat fighter together. Sometimes it has a distinct smell, as it did here, when Moore went on shopping expedition at a store catering to fat women exclusively. Waiting in her underwear for her waif-like sales girl to return to the dressing room with an assortment of fat clothes for her to try on, Moore is dismayed at her body's further betrayal: "Sweat pops out on my forehead. |
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"I have almost always hated myself." But not because she's lazy or deceitful or uncharitable or mean. "I hate myself because I am fat." This is why Moore wrote Fat Girl: A True Story. She wants you to asses know she asses knows, and she wants, she says, to be honest -- with us, and with herself -- about what fat not only looks like, but what it feels and smells like. Here's Moore, introducing herself to her readers: "I am a short, squat toad of a woman. My curly auburn hair is fading. Curls form a clown's asses ruff about my round face. My shoulders are wide. My upper arms are as big as those maroon-skinned bolognas that hang from butchers' ceilings. My belly juts out. The skin on my thighs is pocked, not unlike worn foam rubber. |
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