I was trapped in my body, one that I barely recognized or understood, but at least I was safe.
I tried to erase every memory of her, but she is still there, somewhere. I buried the girl I was because she ran into all kinds of trouble. This is not a weight-loss memoir.įrom the New York Times bestselling author of Bad Feminist : a searingly honest memoir of food, weight, self-image, and learning how to feed your hunger while taking care of yourself. The story of my body is not a story of triumph. Here I offer mine with a memoir of my body and my hunger. With every new diet attempt, I shave off a few pounds. I am still very fat, but I weigh about pounds less than that. That is a staggering number, but at one point, that was the truth of my body. T o tell you the story of my body, do I tell you how much I weighed at my heaviest? Do I tell you that number, the shameful truth of it always strangling me? At my heaviest, I weighed lb, or over 41st, at 6ft 3in.