I admit it, wholly and completely. I am, without a shadow of a doubt, hopelessly addicted.

Not to cigarettes or alcohol (well, okay, a little, but that’s another story) or WOW. I, like your oh-so-typical American female, love to shop. Money damn near literally burns a hole in my wallet – when I have money, anyway. Letting me loose in a mall with $100 is dangerous. I’ll hit up just about everything…save for the clothing stores.

If shopping is one of my highs, shopping for clothes is one of my lows. Nothing is more disheartening or more depressing than to realize that nothing – nothing – in the store will fit you. I won’t lie; it hurts hearing girls complain how much they hate that their pants size is in the double digits. I’d kill to have my pants size in the low to mid teens.

Since puberty tripped up my heels at the confused age of 13, I’ve been fat. Not, “Oh God, 135 pounds, I’m so fat!” fat, but actually obese. Clinically, anyway. I haven’t been under 200 pounds since I was 14. And yeah, part of it is genetics. I come from a pretty heavyset family. But a lot of it is my lifestyle and eating habits. And I’m sick of it. Read More »