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Synopsis

I have a photo of myself that is… well.. let’s just say that it is something that I hate. I should have fed it to the shredder years ago, but I can’t. Why not? Because for as hideous as that photo is, it also tells the truth. As much as I would like to ignore or forget that truth, it was a fact that it was me in that picture. It’s a painful memory but one that I absolutely, for two diametrically opposed reasons, cannot let go. On the one hand, it appalls me. On the other hand, it reminds me of why I cannot ever let that happen again. So this week over in Seattle, a city which boasts that it is among the most healthy cities on the planet, is hosting something called “FatCon.” This is a celebration of the gravitationally challenged as well as having a mission to “improve the lives of fat humans through art, health, public policy, and community outreach. By improving visibility and uplifting the voices of people of size, we don’t seek acceptance, we seek fat liberation.” I have no clue what that means. I’m no