Although I am a feminist who is pro-choice, I can certainly see why some feminists are anti-choice but still consider themselves feminists. A feminist wants equal pay, equal access to services, equal treatment under the law. For some, abortion is not a feminst issue at all - it is a religious conviction about when life begins. For people adamantly in the 'at conception' camp, being pro-choice means being in favor of a woman's right to murder. It's not how I see the issue, but I was raised Catholic and exposed to Church teachings and I do understand that my view isn't the only one.

Who is to say who is right? For my part, I am in favor of my right to choose what to do with my body - even if that means that I am eliminating a potential life, even if someone somewhere proves that fertilized eggs are ensouled upon conception. As long as the fetus resides in my body as my dependent, the choices I make that impact it are between me and my God. It's a risk I am willing to take, and I don't take it lightly - I put safe sex first on the agenda. ALL THE TIME. It's my choice, but it's not a choice I really want to have to make and I live my life accordingly.

Feminism has many stripes, and not all of us will wear all of them at the same time.

You don't have to lose your bravado along with your stomach.

I was not that different from you - defined on the inside and out by my size. I wasn't obese though - I was anorexic for many years. No matter how much people think this is somehow OK because of the culture's craziness over being thin, it isn't OK when it is you. Being anorexic is not an endless parade of super model experiences. It's not glamorous. It's not even attractive, despite the convention that thin is good. Too thin is not good. Dry, lifeless hair that falls out in hunks, gray skin, eczema that makes scaly patches on your face, chronically chapped lips, MAJOR halitosis, dry skin and extra hair all over your body, walking with a limp because there isn't enough fat on the bottoms of your feet to form a cushion. Bones that show through where bones aren't supposed to show through do not evoke envy and admiration but gasps and disgusted stares and audible, snarky comments from perfect little princesses who, one would think, have never had a real problem in their lives. Real anorexia is ugly. People stare, whisper, say rude things that are cattiness disguised as compassion.

When I gained weight, I noticed a simlar personality transformation. The hard-edged, funny-as-shit angry girl I was inside quieted down. To some extent that has been good - I was walking around with a massive chip on my shoulder, and putting on weight and achieving physical and psychological 'normalcy' made me see how unnecessary and unattractive that chip was. And since my disordered eating created the situations that created the need for Miss Chippy to defend me, it was easy to let it go. But not too far. I simply re-educated her - that strong voice, purged of it's self-absorption and anger over various personal expereiences, has served me well when re-channeled to be my voice for other worthy causes: my personal rights in relationships and work, of course, but also to help friends who are having difficulties, people facing injustice and cruelty (like the letter writer detailinig the asshat who snarkily thanked her for saving her from eating dessert - I would have made that bitch wish she'd ordered a *thousand* desserts and kept her mouth shut).

You ARE that inner voice, it just needs a new mantra - there is no more need for the 'best defense if a good offense' approach to people and life. But that doesn't mean that your toughness can't still serve you, and others, well. That voice helped shape you; you can honor the you in you by keeping it as the only and very worthwhile remnant of your old shape.