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Fat Camp

Here's a glimpse of the women in FAT CAMP.  I have been both.  Sarah, early in life; Peggy, after childbirth.  I hope you enjoy the excerpts.  If you click on the book cover, you will be taken to Amazon's Kindle store.  If you do not own a Kindle, you can buy the book in any format via Smashwords.com

THE WOMEN OF FAT CAMP

PEGGY

...She would be willing to do anything to be rid of twenty pounds, the twenty pounds separating her from her favorite number, the twenty pounds zippers couldn't negotiate, the twenty pounds that most often seemed to lodge itself stubbornly in her face, making her eyes, previously her most attractive feature, seem like thin chocolate chunks sunk deep in a bowl of marshmallow fluff.

At the diet meetings, there were so many bloated, sagging faces and such despair Peggy was considered a health nut.  Once someone had asked her if she were positioned among the obese attendees to inspire them.  Instead of being complimented Peggy felt intense shame.  It was one thing to fail when you had a hundred or so pounds to lose, quite another when you couldn't manage to drop a meager twenty....

SARAH

...In the morning minutes between the time she opened her eyes and entered the kitchen, she believed she had the power to change everything.  She considered life without humiliation, without social deprivation, without the pluses and minuses of calories, fat grams, and pounds.  It inspired her.  She often tried to imagine life beyond her own voice hating her own body.  She could be beautiful, and with her new found good looks, she would be as privileged as anyone else.  She really could have a family, a husband, a child.  She could sit on a bus next to someone and not have them groan in protest.  She could wear bright, colorful clothing, not long sweaters and jackets in all dark colors.  She could wear boots that ascended higher than her ankles--that would fit around a normal-size calf.  She could go out dancing.  She could even have a lover. 

But somewhere within that fantasy, within some fault-crack in time, somewhere between her last teaspoon of scraped grapefruit and her second cup of artificially sweetened coffee, shaking from hunger or desperation, conscious only of her emptiness, she had microwaved the frozen coffee cake she kept for company and gone beyond picking off the nuts and icing from the top, to slicing and devouring half the cake in less time than it would have taken her to poach an egg...