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about this? According to statistics released by the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery, nearly 11.7 million surgical and nonsurgical cosmetic procedures were performed in the US in 2007, a number that is surely much higher now. 4 Do you think that has anything to do with society's readily displayed, unrealistic definition of beauty?
BATTLEFIELD: LIVING ROOM
    Close relatives of the GGGs, the TGGs (Television Glamour Girls) waged war against me in my own home. Here's how they roll:
    TGG #1 : I just lost forty pounds on the Magical System of Wonders. My life is finally worth living! Results may vary, and watch out for the looming possibility of frequent bowel urges that could make everything else in life JUST A BIT awkward.
    TGG #2 : Thirty pounds ago, my husband was embarrassed to have me on his arm. Now that I've shed those extra pounds with Fat Stalkers, he can't keep his hands off me. I've even seen his friends checking me out! ( Giggles flirtatiously in face of drooling man. )
    Don't let your guard down around these lovely ladies for even one second. The TGGs have enormous influence. Weight loss is a nearly $55 billion a year business, with Americans spending nearly $40 million of that total. 5
BATTLEFIELD: BEDROOM
    Those GGGs and TGGs must have had a time-released messaging ability, because any time romance was in the air I could hear them loud and clear. Visions of their perfectly sculpted rear ends clad in patches of fabric held together by slim strings marched right to the forefront of my mind (a reminder of the miracle-working power of yoga). Immediately following would be the vision of my dimpled thighs rubbing together ever so attractively in my grandma-style swimsuit. How sexy can one woman get?
    Of course Bill's body hadn't changed a bit since our honeymoon night. Still firm and toned, he would proudly walk around the room torturing me (not intentionally, mind you) with what I didn't feel I deserved. He would climb into bed, where I was safely hidden beneath a layer of covers and my flannel sleep set, and put his arm around me.
    â€œOh, Bill, please don't touch my fat,” I would say.
    â€œCan't I even hug you?”
    Well, okay , I would think. You can touch my wrists and my ankles, and I think my shoulder blades are still firm. You can touch me there.
    Sounds like the makings of a great love scene, doesn't it?
BATTLEFIELD: FAMILY GATHERINGS
    The torment didn't stay tucked away safely in the privacy of my own home. Getting together with extended family took my anxiety to new heights.
    When you think of big family get-togethers you probably imagine a menagerie of people: intoxicated uncles, overly affectionate aunts, cheerful grandmas, and the fat cousin. That last one was me. For both my mom and dad's families, weight was always an important and readily discussed issue. Whoever was thinnest or had lost the most weight recently received quite a bit of positive attention. Though I knew I was loved, I had to battle through feeling like I was a disappointment—the cute face with big bones, the granddaughter who couldn't control her portions, the one who had inherited all the bad genes.
    Oh, and it was worse with Bill's family. You see, his family members all look like models. In fact, I'm pretty sure his sisters actually were models. Tall, thin, elegantly light eaters…adjectives wanting nothing to do with me.
BATTLEFIELD: CHURCH
    And, no, the battle in my mind did not take Sundays off. In fact, sometimes it got worse. After spending far too much time trying to find a pair of pants that first of all fit me, and then second, didn't accentuate how big my rear end really was, I would put my focus on the Lord and head off to worship. With my heart set on ignoring my own petty frustrations, I would enter the sanctuary with a determined smile.
    Then the supernatural would take place: I would somehow be endowed with extra powerful hearing. I'd catch every conversation dealing with