There is the humiliation of a doctor’s visit, where your very being is regarded as evidence of sickness, and employees who are supposed to be professional can barely hide their pity or disdain. I tried to erase every memory of her, but she. I buried the girl I was because she ran into all kinds of trouble. There is the anxiety about whether there will be stairs to climb at a speaking engagement, or chairs so small and tight that they make your knees swell. From the New York Times bestselling author of Bad Feminist: a searingly honest memoir of food, weight, self-image, and learning how to feed your hunger while taking care of yourself.I ate and ate and ate in the hopes that if I made myself big, my body would be safe. Gay takes us on a journey in which we learn what it is to exist in a society that accuses you of taking up too much room, even as it refuses to yield a place for you. It is a thirst for a culture that might encourage each of us to feel comfort in whatever body we are in - a culture that does not exist. It is an aching to be valued by those who cannot see beyond a body. This wrenching work, in which Gay peels back the layers to reveal the trauma that led her, at her heaviest, to weigh 577 pounds, is a yearning to be unburdened of secrets. Roxane Gay's Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (Harper, 320 pp., ***½ out of 4 stars) is a story about craving, but not for what you think.
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