How I Finally Killed the Thin Person Inside Me Trying to Escape
It only took four decades.
In Connecticut, where I grew up, the advertising wasn’t subtle. It was stitched onto throw pillows, displayed in place of pride: “You Can Never Be Too Rich or Too Thin.”
The rich part I had no say in. I was a free lunch kid. I shared a bedroom with my stepsister and my stepbrother. I rocked Woolworth…