I drew the short straw when it came to the genetic pool.  With my parents, the Italians overpowered the Irish.  So I was stuck with the Jackie Gleason body.   Skinny legs, small ass and a belly that just doesn’t quit.

As a teenager, it didn’t matter how thin I got (sound familiar?) I still had a gut.  I fluctuated between 115 and 135 at 5′ 3″.  Always had killer legs but always that gut.   That is just my genetics, no?

Given enough HAES, I have no doubt that gut would have become a fupa.  Given the HAES platform these days, no doubt would I be shaking that baby belly in the street, screaming that all men should embrace it and love it.  Luckily, I grew up before this shitstorm of FA’s.

After the second kid, I had a ton of excess skin.  So I had a tummy tuck.   It was a fucking bitch.  And then some.  Would I do it again?  You bet your ass.

My eating habits didn’t change.   I do tend gain about five pounds per year.  A good flu generally wipes that out but for the last few years, I haven’t gotten sick (stupid perks of being healthy).   So I have to take a month, each spring, to cut calories and get back to my normal weight.   And I don’t think about it again until the following spring.

Moral of the story?  Sometimes genetics do suck.   I dealt with it until my late 30’s.  I dealt with everything that every oppressed FA cries about.  The only difference is that I didn’t give up.  I accepted my flaws and knew that was just my ‘genetics.’   And when I was finally able to, I fixed it.  And even if I couldn’t afford it,   you still wouldn’t see me sporting a fupa and flashing it in the middle of Times Square.   That would just mean that I gave up on myself.  And I will never give up on  me.


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