Fat For Forty Years

I once had an Aunt of whom I was not fond. One of the ways she used to irritate me was by setting down her fork between bites. Here at the Duke Diet and Fitness Center they recommend this practice, because it helps you eat more slowly and savor your food more. You aren’t even meant to load up your next mouthful until the one you are chewing is completely swallowed. Try it–my aunt is the only person I know who ever pulled it off.

Being reminded of my aunt eating has taken me right back to a particularly painful time in my family’s history, which, surprise surprise, was when my eating problems started. I was 10 then, which means I have been fat for forty years. “Do you need four weeks?’ said my father when I told him I was spending all of July at fat camp. Seems I do–and then some.

About Liz Barron

US Peace Corps Volunteer in Armenia. Permanent address in Washington DC. Deep roots in Northern Ireland and persistent Belfast accent. Blogger,cook, mother, grandma, Scrabble-player and enthusiastic world traveler.
This entry was posted in diet, fat, food, overweight, Tales of a Belfast girlhood and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Fat For Forty Years

  1. Byron Murray says:

    For some time now you have made me laugh in person and in print. You are a delightful ray of brightness, humor and downright fun. However, as a person sharing the same challenge, I know this is not a laughing matter. Someday–not too far away–when our inner and outer beauty have finally meshed, let’s get together for a whooping, joyous, stomping celebration that will make fireworks pale in comparison.

    Your friend,

    Byron Murray

  2. blarneycrone says:

    thank you so much Byron–I appreciate this–and look forward to the whooping and the stomping…

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