It's Not About the Weight, but It's Not Not About the Weight.

I'm reading Geneen Roth's book, Women Food and God. After giving it a bad review without even reading it (just from what I saw on the Oprah interview), I picked up a copy before my trip to Fairbanks. I decided I wasn't being fair since I hadn't read the book and only caught 30 minutes of the Oprah-Geneen interview.<br /><br />I'm on chapter five of the book and so far, I'm impressed. In fact, I'm so impressed I signed up for the Geneen Roth two-day workshop on October 8-9 in Seattle. <a href="http://notes-by-grace.blogspot.com/">Grace</a> will be attending too, and I'm super excited to meet her (forget Geneen, I get to meet Grace!).<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Women Food And God</div><div style="text-align: center;">An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything</div><div style="text-align: center;">with Geneen Roth</div><div style="text-align: center;">Holiday Inn Seattle SeaTac Airport </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This is just down the street from my office so I don't even have to drive into the city, an added bonus. <br /><br />If you want to sign up for the workshop, here's the  link:<br /><br /> <a href="http://geneenroth.com/events_and_appearances.html">http://geneenroth.com/events_and_appearances.html</a>. <br /><br />Also, if you go to this link, there's a popup where you can sign up to get a free chapter from the book, Women Food And God, emailed to you. I signed up for it myself and was sent the free chapter, and it's chapter four, the best chapter I've read so far. I'm on chapter five, but chapter four was the one that really hit home with me.</div><br />The one paragraph that that's really struck me is in chapter four, page 52:<br /><br /><em>The bottom line, whether you weigh 340 pounds or 150 pounds, is that when you eat when you are not hungry, you are using food as a drug, grappling with boredom or illness or loss or grief or emptiness or loneliness or rejection. Food is only the middleman, the means to the end. Of altering your emotions. Of making yourself numb. Of creating a secondary problem when the original problem becomes too uncomfortable. Of dying slowly rather than coming to terms with your messy, magnificent and very, very short--even at a hundred years old--life. The means to these ends happens to be food, but it could be alcohol, it could be work, it could be sex, it could be cocaine.</em><br /><br />I could practically quote the entire first five chapters of the book. I've highlighted and underlined many sentences and paragraphs because it seems like she's speaking about me. It seems the key is finding out the issue and facing it, not necessarily fixing it. This is a new concept to me. I know my issues but I thought I had to fix them, which seemed insurmountable. Geneen says we're not broken, and we don't need to be fixed, we just need to face the issues and feel the pain. It won't kill us. A very difficult thing to do. It's so much easier to run away from it, compulsive overeat and let weight become the primary issue.<br /><br />Strangely, this book is giving me a sense of peace about my weight. I don't feel as freaked out about coming back from vacation and having gained six pounds in nine days. <br /><br />When I stepped on the scales this morning, my first morning back home, I looked into the mirror first and told myself regardless of what the scale said it didn't make me a bad person. It didn't make me lazy or stupid or ugly. It didn't define me. I weighed, and I'm 173 pounds. <br /><br />Yes, I'm up a few pounds, but considering I ate cookies, candy, and a lot of meals at restaurants, and I barely exercised (three gym visits and a few walks in nine days), the gain was expected. I'm surprisingly not upset, not shaming myself, not doing the negative talk that "I'm a fat, lazy, stupid pig and why did I do this to myself?" <br /><br />Perhaps if I'd read more of the book while I was on vacation, the results might have been different, but I accept me as I am now.<br /><br />One more quote from the book that had a profound impact on me, chapter four, page 53. I wish I'd read this before my vacation. :)<br /><br /><em>Sometimes people will say, "But I just like the taste of food. In fact, I love the taste! Why can't it be that simple? I overeat because I like food."</em><br /><br /><em>But.</em><br /><br /><em>When you like something, you pay attention to it. When you like something--love something--you take time with it. You want to be present for every second of the rapture.</em><br /><br /><em>Overeating does not lead to rapture. It leads to burping and farting and being so sick that you can think of anything but how full you are. That's not love; that's suffering.</em><br /><br /><em>Weight (too much or too little) is a by-product. Weight is what happens when you use food to flatten your life. Even with aching joints, it's not about food. Even with arthritis, diabetes, high blood pressure. It's about your desire to flatten you life. It's about the fact that you've given up without saying so. It's about your belief that it's not possible to live any other way--and you're using food to act that out without ever having to admit it.</em><br /><br />I highly recommend this book, Food God and Women, and will be periodically writing about it as I continue reading.<br /><em>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</em><br />The vacation<br /><br />I had a great time in Fairbanks. Nine days with my family was bliss. I'm very fortunate that I have such a wonderful family. They're people I'd hang out with even if I wasn't related to them. <br /><br />They're not perfect by any means (neither am I), and we have dysfunctional things just like anyone else, even some Jerry Springer shows could be made on some of it, but for the most part, they're awesome. <br /><br />A few pictures from my trip (out of order, but I'm too lazy/tired to rearrange them).<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Mt. McKinley or Denali (as they call it now). From the plane window flying to Fairbanks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnCfUW9WlzxtxBtTx7H96ocvJ84ThHKTGxSi68Ebev9ADSdPIvHgKJweDtCIVDs-bSf1x37lZB15JyjQdEEPiMZ1P9PFiINtQOE4IfxtOBuwW2m4XA_kuHG2QJFhb249vmWWy-SvFxKthd/s1600/Mt.+McKinley2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnCfUW9WlzxtxBtTx7H96ocvJ84ThHKTGxSi68Ebev9ADSdPIvHgKJweDtCIVDs-bSf1x37lZB15JyjQdEEPiMZ1P9PFiINtQOE4IfxtOBuwW2m4XA_kuHG2QJFhb249vmWWy-SvFxKthd/s400/Mt.+McKinley2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> Fairbanks, from the plane window. I actually stayed at my sister's place, 30 miles from town. But this is the town where I went to high school and college. I grew up closer to Shaw Creek, 80 miles south of Fairbanks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5yg5T-_2qs7Q-IhJyoQjuO4tmFfiryy7fIgFQMD2egZoJpG8TgOmRKn6dSWjPn_gAyvvgcu758s8qmq7lx9hdLkefGhoPw7i3I8c6oOmJNnUNyPYFZh4HNq85rgvEGYLXamLYRtko22j/s1600/Fairbanks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5yg5T-_2qs7Q-IhJyoQjuO4tmFfiryy7fIgFQMD2egZoJpG8TgOmRKn6dSWjPn_gAyvvgcu758s8qmq7lx9hdLkefGhoPw7i3I8c6oOmJNnUNyPYFZh4HNq85rgvEGYLXamLYRtko22j/s400/Fairbanks.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My sister and I by the gravel pit where we go swimming. It was only warm enough one day to swim, 72 degrees. It was a very cold July this year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIVRHoT6hYanr7WYHmBWHGhhnd5wqAqYa40q0UTbtsspTkFTafN3NzSRD5glfrMAkXLJJo8DBkWlmAHmeYMPo9MaZ6O4QXuuyC7NLCdOxRzwL_RvJog_Yjsj1SeHVxI_GeDvvIy4gNwSi/s1600/Sister+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIVRHoT6hYanr7WYHmBWHGhhnd5wqAqYa40q0UTbtsspTkFTafN3NzSRD5glfrMAkXLJJo8DBkWlmAHmeYMPo9MaZ6O4QXuuyC7NLCdOxRzwL_RvJog_Yjsj1SeHVxI_GeDvvIy4gNwSi/s400/Sister+and+me.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My brother, Jerry, on our 4-wheeler trip to Shaw Creek flats, down the Alyeska Pipeline Road.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5u7CSnFrIv3vxvg8xC1jtYT8oi5xwrR3U45i92mSgBEmKVJ5F5-zIXGBpJJVfZYO_NDp5CHJWT3Oyyanve1nUQjQP4dlkMhssGhSCtEy6DPtLF3YemqC7Q6MiIgvQB9igLKY2Jek-hdU/s1600/Gerald1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5u7CSnFrIv3vxvg8xC1jtYT8oi5xwrR3U45i92mSgBEmKVJ5F5-zIXGBpJJVfZYO_NDp5CHJWT3Oyyanve1nUQjQP4dlkMhssGhSCtEy6DPtLF3YemqC7Q6MiIgvQB9igLKY2Jek-hdU/s400/Gerald1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">My brother, his wife and Goldie, the Alaskan Pomeranian. Sweetest dog ever.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrpOXJiHTe1dQkT_BxuVZUWTasyWaTYrVhotqN85s3I6S3HGY0tYa-hAN7L7NpczNLvBn2LSVqlCfbQC6rAKCrgcBT-mR3L-aAo4N5Sb2f6t0ZcWTZXw2JbUGYBu26nr9aT9mCDFSasd5/s1600/My+brother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrpOXJiHTe1dQkT_BxuVZUWTasyWaTYrVhotqN85s3I6S3HGY0tYa-hAN7L7NpczNLvBn2LSVqlCfbQC6rAKCrgcBT-mR3L-aAo4N5Sb2f6t0ZcWTZXw2JbUGYBu26nr9aT9mCDFSasd5/s400/My+brother.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Moose in the field next door to my sister's 400 acres, Eielson Farm Road.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQtk1tCxQpSc1BxfCpDXLP1UIMrtoPrvSCwVTrdTM4c1mnNX13cHotPdt4ocHehu0YRJEye2vbRSo5HeL5jpTOqKQGJaMY7XXTyeF7ULH4alBVKU7iq0ZziKYx4RbstZydDUDogMpL7Qp/s1600/Moose+in+field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQtk1tCxQpSc1BxfCpDXLP1UIMrtoPrvSCwVTrdTM4c1mnNX13cHotPdt4ocHehu0YRJEye2vbRSo5HeL5jpTOqKQGJaMY7XXTyeF7ULH4alBVKU7iq0ZziKYx4RbstZydDUDogMpL7Qp/s400/Moose+in+field.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My great niece, Joanna, and her daughter, my grand niece, Layla. Sweetest and smartest two-year old I've ever met. And she lovesme. :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-bnNdz-Yri5aM-Ch-3b-XBBMp1H6aerv4ImwJF6eY4nkvuVtD_5Sn2nbOhNw0iz8ObHWI0_5jPZdOUMb23NbnwjuNraJiKd-Njw_qHIMrnsIkXsUpFzAdJ-4hMNklgZ0zthivaHxefXj/s1600/Joanna+and+Layla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-bnNdz-Yri5aM-Ch-3b-XBBMp1H6aerv4ImwJF6eY4nkvuVtD_5Sn2nbOhNw0iz8ObHWI0_5jPZdOUMb23NbnwjuNraJiKd-Njw_qHIMrnsIkXsUpFzAdJ-4hMNklgZ0zthivaHxefXj/s400/Joanna+and+Layla.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On our 4-wheeling trip, next to the pipeline.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEnziu1XgL5YL3UFT9abeK4Z8t9NCjwlapNcADDQps4geYy9ePK3tTfKuyIuOeLT29yrz9u55W74Yw2Yu13_xo7_yuhG7-qsAvrAKGgOMkbrx7scxHydKsMslwbJsg0WKbXMSCgF-Rxir/s1600/me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEnziu1XgL5YL3UFT9abeK4Z8t9NCjwlapNcADDQps4geYy9ePK3tTfKuyIuOeLT29yrz9u55W74Yw2Yu13_xo7_yuhG7-qsAvrAKGgOMkbrx7scxHydKsMslwbJsg0WKbXMSCgF-Rxir/s400/me.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Me in the rain. Official army rain poncho ($50), best investment I ever made. Kept me dry and warm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhPcmolsFHq4ssyUp1HT_u5iAYGcdTFgMLFAJSYnV0sKdMZt27JHtzqWcbBDyx3y1guWafbs_VrjhMuI8SIssVqFQHVLGL_g2DxFBrcp0nqUwvi1kEf7JaSB3ZgN2OUxXr2s_yQa82w_j/s1600/rain+on+the+4wheeler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhPcmolsFHq4ssyUp1HT_u5iAYGcdTFgMLFAJSYnV0sKdMZt27JHtzqWcbBDyx3y1guWafbs_VrjhMuI8SIssVqFQHVLGL_g2DxFBrcp0nqUwvi1kEf7JaSB3ZgN2OUxXr2s_yQa82w_j/s400/rain+on+the+4wheeler.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">More pipeline.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8641KRE7Fe_Yjr9YP9d1UWHXGZMnE6R3dJQI3KpV1HTt9EdHLSfrngVzQfZ8aXMyp4l-CMBxetwiS-RR8hdYYsvbdDTsUxYDURMeALS2JeQU-SmlUpfqIgnPKc5k5hstH69SOTih2QzV4/s1600/rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8641KRE7Fe_Yjr9YP9d1UWHXGZMnE6R3dJQI3KpV1HTt9EdHLSfrngVzQfZ8aXMyp4l-CMBxetwiS-RR8hdYYsvbdDTsUxYDURMeALS2JeQU-SmlUpfqIgnPKc5k5hstH69SOTih2QzV4/s400/rain.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Trumpeter Swans, living on a little island in the middle of a lake. There were actually four adults and babies, but I couldn't get close enough to get good pictures.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjacnfnnBnkEieGZzQ1ma_-6dl9wWPz8EeYNnRGJaoO2Dm0LBNP1t32pHezHQGNaFCnVQMwLY-YhindAocyC0dBDOt5lm0QzoDTq7hYxktaF-qm_pIHO5ec8KIKE6NopItBdvYiwv3u0Gc/s1600/Swans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjacnfnnBnkEieGZzQ1ma_-6dl9wWPz8EeYNnRGJaoO2Dm0LBNP1t32pHezHQGNaFCnVQMwLY-YhindAocyC0dBDOt5lm0QzoDTq7hYxktaF-qm_pIHO5ec8KIKE6NopItBdvYiwv3u0Gc/s400/Swans.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A bull moose that ran out from a lake and then took off under the pipeline on the other side of the road. He had sense enough to duck down when going under the pipeline. Proof that the wildlife are doing just fine with the pipeline. We saw nine moose that day, cows, baby moose, and bulls. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XhzDKA4qNO8xSKqlDSRmnwYldZaMn_bNbsYmWATzzEpayA7tXfkyyDqkWS3vrevXgvRA7oG68Il2bgbnCy-sjSWDx53yw0ZIP8ClkQwx17p4KOFeDbMUb8Xso_Cbzxy1reqaT1a2NArd/s1600/Bull+moose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XhzDKA4qNO8xSKqlDSRmnwYldZaMn_bNbsYmWATzzEpayA7tXfkyyDqkWS3vrevXgvRA7oG68Il2bgbnCy-sjSWDx53yw0ZIP8ClkQwx17p4KOFeDbMUb8Xso_Cbzxy1reqaT1a2NArd/s400/Bull+moose.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Me and my niece Linda.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMF5fzsL_PRZwSTGTeFYvvXmZvbVauVfSeIO5ksgabtxJZHfFlncbiCUgQ5zCxyTRjt8zCcOQk_GOclsP9dSTlx-ZyohZWM9kFeytWRmMI3IiO7x-jSUNS-oQlpBbIJpRjtJDWTkdYv6Sx/s1600/Linda+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMF5fzsL_PRZwSTGTeFYvvXmZvbVauVfSeIO5ksgabtxJZHfFlncbiCUgQ5zCxyTRjt8zCcOQk_GOclsP9dSTlx-ZyohZWM9kFeytWRmMI3IiO7x-jSUNS-oQlpBbIJpRjtJDWTkdYv6Sx/s400/Linda+and+me.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Osprey nest. I have pictures of the Osprey, but he or she wouldn't pose for me so not very good pictures. It did scream at us while we were taking pictures. Huge bird, with probably about a 10 to 12 foot wingspan. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskMQmVA5SgQ0BF6kyJB5HtcrcwfViVEcsvyVcTWUufUaJwVhxfOdueNtDXXDBv2mYsCdxroy18piwnFwy3l3x8KJwNDpoiaqIGaZ7znmQrdM68W59-BDCywhQPcTBTtFZ9vemyDQR8iji/s1600/Osprey+nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskMQmVA5SgQ0BF6kyJB5HtcrcwfViVEcsvyVcTWUufUaJwVhxfOdueNtDXXDBv2mYsCdxroy18piwnFwy3l3x8KJwNDpoiaqIGaZ7znmQrdM68W59-BDCywhQPcTBTtFZ9vemyDQR8iji/s400/Osprey+nest.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Going up a very steep hill on the 4-wheelers. My 72-year old sister was driving. She's owned 4-wheelers for years she's never driven one. It was her first time. Even though my brother told us to be sure to be in 4-wheel drive he forgot to put his rig in 4W drive so he got stuck. We had to back all the way down this hill. I was sure the thing was going to flip over backwards and we were all going to die. Scary but fun times. :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJC-pSpeu8irUbLXE64EOHmfpMsSuOkbaRrOwl4qqly0pfUGNLnzJKSeSskAoyHlT9ir7l2e615o8ECTVbGuVTtejqn9yPvyukn2b0WUF6Mb53hQeRdQ970Wasyk3E2tJQpxSjvW3yZd1K/s1600/no+4-wheel+drive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJC-pSpeu8irUbLXE64EOHmfpMsSuOkbaRrOwl4qqly0pfUGNLnzJKSeSskAoyHlT9ir7l2e615o8ECTVbGuVTtejqn9yPvyukn2b0WUF6Mb53hQeRdQ970Wasyk3E2tJQpxSjvW3yZd1K/s400/no+4-wheel+drive.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>

It's Not About the Weight, but It's Not Not About the Weight.

I'm reading Geneen Roth's book, Women Food and God. After giving it a bad review without even reading it (just from what I saw on th...

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