Building Better Bodies

MY AUNT GEORGIA was once the fattest woman in history. Her name is in the Guinness Book of Records, just after the entry for the fattest man. We weren't particularly proud of her, but we weren't what you might call ashamed, either. She surprised strangers. As children we brought our friends around to meet her and be surprised. Aunt Georgia was so pretty, you wouldn't credit it. People often seem to think that fat equals ugly, but it's not always true. Her head was tiny above her giant body. She was graceful--she couldn't walk, she could only glide on the balls of her long noble feet. There wasn't anyone to love like Aunt Georgia. Even her name breathed desire. Her eyes were wide as a model's, her hair was mouse brown touched with red and gold and a faint hint of green. And wavey, right over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. "Small" is a bit of a misnomer when applied to Aunt Georgia in her prime. Her wrists were as big around as the widest part of my hips, and I'm not small. Her breasts were wheels of cheese, her cheeks the sweep and fall of summer meadows. Even her voice was big, black as chocolate and smooth as butter; she sang all the time