Last night, my husband and I were spacing out on the couch after each taking a turn at our lawn mower, sans front-wheel drive. (How I underestimated the help that self-propulsion gives when mowing a gigantic yard!) I was cutting coupons and weeding out expired ones when I heard a woman on a commercial say, “It helped me drop from size 10 to size 4!”

I went to bed irritated. I woke up pissed off.

What on God’s green earth is wrong with being a size 10???  


Size 10 is normal, in the middle, balanced.

But thanks to all the junk food in the stores, fast food that’s ridiculously unhealthy (ergo KFC’s “double-down” — can anyone say “double-bypass?”), and all the airbrushed starving “role-models” in the media, reaching, maintaining and being satisfied with an average, normal, balanced weight is pretty much impossible.

So we get to choose between saying “screw it, I’m gonna eat what I want” and starving ourselves. Both are fatal. Obesity and related diseases (heart failure, heart attack, diabetes, and stroke) is killing people at epidemic rates. Then there’s the equally destructive option of anorexia and/or bulemia.

I admit it. My body leaped from girls size 14-16 to misses’s size 10 in the space of about 6 months. I used to walk past “5-7-9” at the mall and gaze at the super-cute tiny clothes in there longingly. And I’ve struggled for my entire life to be happy the size I am. I’m just now able to listen when I remind myself, “You are thirty-four years old and have born children. Your body cannot and will not ever look like an 18-year-old athlete. You’re healthy and you’re fine as a size 10.”

Why can’t we find a middle ground? A happy healthy middle?

Let’s start a resistance! All together now… 1, 2, 3: “Size 10 isn’t fat!”