But really... Fuck. Me.
That perfect body wrapped up in my favorite sweet treat from a carnival.
‘Dear Body,
You were never a problem.
There is nothing wrong with your size...
You’re good enough already.
– Love, Me.’
Prologue II
Kimber
Age 8
“Kimber, dear, ladies wear their hair up. Not down. Please go do something with it.” My mama said.
Age 9
“Kimber, ladies are graceful.” My mama said.
Age 10
“Kimber, ladies don’t eat all those sweets. No man is going to want someone bigger than they are.” My mama said.
Age 12
“Kimber, for the last time, order the fat-free dressing.” My mama said.
Age 14
“Kimber, if you don’t go put on a dress, I’m going to have Suri burn all of your clothes.” My mama said.
Age 16
“Kimber, your body doesn’t need that soda. All those sugars? Seriously.” My mama said.
Age 17
“You don’t need to go to school. What you need is to find a husband. You’re a Stevenson.” My mama said.
I growled.
My sister snickered.
My brother smirked.
I was seriously debating taking a DNA test.
Age 18
“I like my women fit and thin. I’ll be happy with you.” My date said.
My mama beamed.
