The times in my life when I've been my thinnest, I've been a walking psycho wreck. Forget the fact that I was basically starving myself; skinny was usually due to some kind of loss. Death. Rejection. Divorce.

I can trace every romance of my life back to a meal. My memories are enhanced by the tender morsels had at tables across from lovers, on blankets with friends who'd eventually become more, in banquets, barbecues, and breakfasts.

I spent my whole single life trying to be thin just to find someone who'd love me once I got fat.

I'm human. But overall, whenever I see anyone being made fun of or given a hard time, I rush to their defense. I want to help them because I know how it feels.

Women in our generation, we were taught we can be and do anything as long as we work hard. But you can't work hard enough for two people.

People can say you're fat because you're filling a void, or you eat for all these emotional reasons. I said, 'I don't need to focus on this anymore. It doesn't matter why I'm fat. Let's fix it.

What we wait around a lifetime for with one person, we can find in a moment with someone else.