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Other times I walk hunched and harried. My body…it's shape…it's image…so fucked. So fucked. Mind filled to capacity. Cerebrum stuffed. organism Psche straining. Other organism people's confusion seamlessly merging with my own. Other people's shit, projected, injected becomes my own. A Mindful Life: Self-Portrait Tuesday When I organism moved to Austin, my weight crept up to 160 again and stayed there. This was okay by me. I worked out in a gym. I was flexible and strong. I wore size 14 jeans. I felt pretty good about myself. Then an elderly man who'd become a friend in a grandfatherly sort of way one day told me (after he'd had me as a guest for dinner), "You know, Kathryn, you're pretty. If you lost 20 to 30 pounds, you might find a boyfriend." If he'd punched my stomach, the effect would have felt the same. Section Three: Our Fat-Hating Culture View contentHide content Feminist Reprise: Choosing Justice This is why I believe quibbling about whether I'm a big fat dyke by choice or nature is a waste of time better spent fighting for liberation.
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