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Natasha, Weight Loss, and the Disney Princess of 1812

Before fourth grade, as far as I knew, I was beautiful.

A boy who'd lived in Germany was interested in me, and we held hands in Chuck E. Cheese's, and although I was far from the most popular girl in school - being far too brash and bookish to fit in - I was confident in my talents and in my person.

But then one day in early fourth grade, they paraded us all into the nurse's office where they gave us a chart on Body Mass Index (BMI) and weighed us publicly before each other.  I was told, before everyone, that I was fat.   Moreover, it was made known to me in no uncertain terms that this was not only undesirable but shameful, and clear evidence of moral failing on my part.

However, I was not fat.  I was nine.  I was growing.  I was actually quite slim.  I fit into leotards and didn't look ridiculous.  And what is even more: Who the hell cares.  My weight was not then and is not now my Self.

But try telling the stereotypes of the world that.

Because, as we all know, thi…

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