“I mean, six years ago my electricity's being cut off and my car's getting repossessed and I'm being evicted from my apartment, and now I'm all "Yeah, havin' dinner with Rudy in the Hamptons, what of it?”

“I stuff another handful of Raisinets in my mouth. What gets me is the 'pretty face' bit. 'Cause I won't mind being reminded I'm fat as long as you water it down first. Why not say, Hey I'm going to insult you, but first I will congratulate your fortunate genetics and appropriate appliclation of Bobbi Brown cosmetics to prevent you from hitting me. Sh*t; I kind of prefer being called a 'fat bitch.' At least it doesn't pull any punches.”

“So now I'm getting my gown made by an exclusive seamstress, and all thos anorexic whores on Michigan Avenue and Oak Street who made me feel like the Goodyear blimp can kiss the very fattest part of my ass.”

“When I hug her, I notice she's still wearing yesterday's false eyelashes.Mom? You know those come off with a little makeup remover and a cotton pad?"I'm not taking them off."Why not?"I spent $180 on that makeup job and I refuse to wash my face until I get my money's worth.”

“As I paddle along, I slowly become aware that it's been fear keeping me out of this pool for so many years. I never came here before because I was afraid I'd make a fool of myself by not having the endurance to complete a lap. The swimming wasn't what scared me; failure was. My fear locked me in a state of arrested development for so many years. Fear kept me from tackling my weight, which I understand has simply been symptomatic of my greater fear, growing up. I glide down the lane on my back and reflect on how good I feel right now. It's not because I've lost more than thirty pounds. I feel incredible because I've stopped being afraid.”

“(At a health and fitness fair)Though normally superconfident, I am not prepared for the judgmental stares of the ultrafit. They don't know me and have no idea of my prowess in the boardroom. They're unfamiliar with my shoe collection and unaware that I live in the Dot-Com Palace. And they didn't notice me pulling up in the Caddy. All they can see is how much space I occupy.With each step I take, I feel cellulite blossoming on my arms, my stomach, my calves. Stop it! I think my chin just multiplied and my thighs inflated. No! Deflate! Deflate! And I'm pretty sure I can see my own ass out of the corner of my eye. Gah! Cut it out!! Am I imagining things, or do my footsteps sound like those of the giant who stomped through the city in the beginning of Underdog? And how did I go from aging-but-still-kind-of-hot ex-sorority girl to horrific, stompy cartoon monster in less than an hour?My sleek and sexy python sandals have morphed into cloven hooves by the time I reach the line for the race packet. While I wait, the air is abuzz with tales of other marathons while many sets of eyes cut in my direction. Eventually an asshat in a JUST DO IT T-shirt asks me, "How's your training going?”

“I don't mean to get all religious here, but I'm pretty sure key lime martinis (with a graham cracker & sugar rim) are proof that Jesus loves us.”