I can tell you that once, not too long ago, maybe even this time last year, I was ashamed of everything about my body, and I hated the way I looked. Every stretch mark and scar that adorned my belly and thighs and ass were like the faded lashings of an angry master. The way my boobs looked was unappealing to me, and I seemed to carry weight in my face like I carried shame on my back. I hid myself in baggy clothes, willing myself to lose 50 lbs overnight, so I could wake up happy and begin living. It never happened. Until one day, finally, it did... [cont. reading]