For as long as I can remember, I loved "making up"
my own stories. And being the oldest of six children, and next to the oldest of 25 grandchildren, I had a lot of practice spinning my yarns "on request."
I learned to love romance novels after discovering author, Emilie Loring. I collected and read every book I could find by her. I knew that this was the type of books I wanted to write.
My wonderful sisters, Ellen and Jerri, became weary of hearing me say I was going to "write a book," so one day they approached me with a pen and spiral notebook and said, "do it."
So thanks to them, I wrote my first novella. And in doing so, I proved to myself that I could.
After I decided to stop the self-destructive fad diets that I had lived on since the age of eleven, and accept myself as who I was born to be, I set about to write romance novels with Big Beautiful Heroines.
But the books aren't just for plus-size women. The message is for all women to love ourselves as we are and stop trying to be something we were never meant to be.
For years the so-called "experts" of this society told me that there was a skinny woman inside of me, just waiting to come out. And for years, I made myself believe this lie. And occasionally, that skinny woman would peek out, only to run back inside, and not be seen again for some time.
I spent twenty-two years giving that skinny woman every chance to come out that she could possibly want, but she never took full advantage of the opportunities that I gave her. Then one day, after a long period of soul searching and question answering, I realized that the woman inside of me wasn't skinny at all! She was a perfect size twenty-two!
She was an outgoing, exuberant, happy woman. She was beautiful and healthy and warm. She was sexy, alluring, and intriguing.
And after twenty years of freedom, she still surprises me with her confidence, her fearless approach to life, and her total love and excitement for each new day.
She has a love of life that most people only long for.
I apologize to her for all the wasted years that I kept her shut away, like some hostage, starving her, making her skip meals, and only allowing her one "good" meal a week, then feeding her laxatives or making her throw up, to get rid of what she did eat.
I'm sorry for the times I made her go to bed so hungry that her growling stomach kept her awake long into the night.
I cry sometimes when I remember how I ruined her precious health, causing her to come very close to a total breakdown,both mentally and physically. And I am in horror when I think of how close I came to ending her life because of that destroyed mental and physical health.
I regret the hours, days, months, and years that I wasted her intelligent time obsessing over what to eat or not to eat, when she should have been using that time on more productive endeavors.
And I promise her that I'll spend the rest of her life feeding her correctly, giving her proper exercise, and making sure she's healthy and happy.
But most of all, I promise to love her just the way she is.