Starving For Meat

Size eight. Mother's dress form was this size, and everyone from herself, my sisters and the ladies who came by the house had dresses draped on this form. Size eight seemed as normal as pulling out a tape measure and making clothes to fit.

So size --that nasty changing beast, has never been much of an issue. I'd not paid attention even with my own fluctuations of the greater meaning of size. That is, until I learned of my friend's daughter's struggle with anorexia. It's a vicious cycle, this anorexia, one that could end up cutting short her life.

And though I despair over how fat we as a nation have become, the public embrace of a body image so rail thin is more disturbing.
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Get Lost With Easy-Writer: Starving For Meat