I've never seen the anti-fat movement in such a frenzy, never seen them go for blood so ravenously. And I've been fat my whole life.
They remind me oh so much of the "infected" in my novel. Bloodthirsty, nearly brainless, so eager to please and be rewarded, and so very ravenous to injure.
I'm fat. I don't always eat what I should. Most of my really bad treats I make myself. But I exercise everyday (I have two young children, we are ALWAYS outside). I'm fairly certain I'll always be fat. I'm also happy, with a (slim) husband who adores me. I also happen to realize I'm quite beautiful. A very FAT kind of beautiful.
I won't apologize.
I also hit the 50,000 plus word mark tonight. I'm not done by any means, but thats a good (marketable) mark to hit. If I can wrap it up by 80,000 I'll be delighted. It feels good to hold that manuscript in your hands when it weighs something-when those pages are so numerous as to feel like (a very naked) book.
and i should probably go to bed.