She couldn’t change the way the world looked at her, so she changed the world.… Ronnie Tremayne is a big girl with big dreams: she wants to be a fashion designer. But as her model-thin mother never fails to remind her, in fashion, image is everything—and Ronnie is a size 28. When she learns that her job managing a plus-size boutique is in jeopardy because her weight is “disturbing” to the clientele, Ronnie loses control. After a late-night binge, she dozes off wishing for a world where fat is beautiful. When she awakens the next morning…it is. Now the ideal woman, Ronnie is thrust into the spotlight. She attends the best parties. She has her mother’s approval. Her boss invests in her clothing line. And the men ! But as her appetite for life grows, Ronnie’s appetite for food shrinks. She soon becomes unrecognizable—inside and out. And while navigating the giddy highs and miserable lows of this so-called perfect world, Ronnie discovers what she should have known all along: it’s not the size of your body that matters, but the size of your heart. Wise, witty, and compassionate, this stunning debut novel speaks to anyone who has ever engaged in the battle of the bulge—or the exasperatingly elusive pursuit of perfection. “A warm, wise, bittersweet book, brimming with powerful insight and understanding—a must for any woman who has ever dieted or obsessed about her body image—which is basically every woman in the Western world.” —Sue Margolis, author of Breakfast at Stephanie’s Andrea Rains Waggener left a career in law to pursue a career in writing. She is now a writer of fiction and nonfiction. Her book Healthy, Wealthy, & Wise--52 Life-Changing Lessons for the 21st Century comes out in February 2005 from Hazeldon. Her weekly newspaper column, "The Up Beat"--which appears in The Daily World in Aberdeen, Washington--has inspired people for over five years to live an upbeat life. She has also struggled with the weight issue herself, ranging in her adult life from a size 8 to a size 26. (She is currently a size 12.) She lives with her husband and dog near the coast in Washington State. Chapter One At noon on a Tuesday in early April, I hesitated in the stark archway separating the lobby from the muted dining room of one of Seattle's downtown, upscale restaurants. Pale white silk-textured walls relieved only by shining mahogany chair rails enclosed a roomful of identical tables that held gleaming white, gold-rimmed plates and polished silverware, spotless stemmed glasses, and napkins folded like little tents—all placed just so. I sighed and scanned the room. Why did I say yes? I hated being away from the shop during the busy lunch hour. But when Audrey called, the called rushed forth. A hum of polite conversation ebbed and flowed around me, accentuated by the irregular tinkling of silverware against china. The civilized aroma of butter and basil drifted my way. I swallowed the saliva that came unbidden, like I was some distant relation to one of Pavlov's dogs. I spotted Audrey seated at a table in the middle of the room. Her tailored cream crepe pantsuit blended nicely with the room's decor. Of course. She was holding court to a couple of men standing next to her table; both wore ubiquitous gray European-cut suits. I headed toward my mother. My high heels sank into the ridiculously thick emerald carpet, making it difficult to keep my balance. My normal ponderous waddle became a graceless lurch. Struggling to maintain some dignity, I lifted my chin. But I was aware of the futility of my upright bearing. I stopped at the right side of the nearest suited man. Glancing at Audrey, I noted the pucker between her perfectly arched brows as she inspected me. I adjusted the skirt of my teal linen suit and made sure my silk blouse wasn't gapping open. "Tell Charlene I'm thinking of her," Audrey said, turning toward the second man. She reached for his hand with her slender mauve-tipped fingers and squeezed it—grace and warmth in concert. "If there's anything I can do for either of you, let me know." The two men murmured good-bye and moved on, ignoring me. "Veronica, dear." Audrey's voice was low and even. She'd waited until the men were on the far side of the dining room before greeting me. "Hey," I said, gripping the table edge and lowering myself into a straight-backed chair. It was ridiculously small—just another example of rampant fat bias. I love myself exactly as I am, I repeated several times silently in my head. My gaze roamed over the menu, lingered on the French Dip and the Broiled Crab and Cheese sandwiches and went obediently to the salads. "I will have a small green salad, please," Audrey told the waiter. "With oil and vinegar on the side." I sighed and pictured the Butterfingers I had stashed in my desk drawer back at the shop. "Same for me." Audrey nodded. Her frosted blond pageboy didn't move. "I am pleased to see you working on your diet, dear." I shot a glance at the hovering waiter an