Month: November 2019
Bon Bons to Yoga Pants The Health and Happiness Society Book 1 by Katie Cross Genre: Chick Lit
Confessions of a Chubby Girl
A monster lives inside every girl.
Sometimes it’s a big one that drowns out all the others.
Sometimes it’s not.
Sometimes it’s a crowd. Sometimes it’s just one. My biggest monster was a creative beast that craved chocolate and felt good if I drowned her in starch and, on occasion, an overabundance of exercise that cancelled out ALL those calories.
Then she spawned a piece of art I never anticipated.
The Chubby Girl Monster
By twelve years old, I was blatantly imperfect, flawed, and terribly insecure about it—like a lot of humans. So I did what any hormonal, emotional wreck-of-a-tween would do.
I turned to the loving, constant arms of food.
Brownies were a favorite, though I wouldn’t turn down Ben and Jerry’s or mozzarella sticks or any other battered goodness that I could just pop in the oven or microwave. Fistfuls of animal crackers? Perfect snack with a quart of sugary-sweet guava juice from concentrate. Mom cut up carrots and apple slices, but I dipped them in gobs of peanut butter.
Nutrition therapy at it’s finest.
Growing Up Chubby
Being a kid is hard enough, but being an overweight kid is even harder. Combine frizzy hair, an odd obsession with books, and an absent father, and I was a walking monster mine. By third grade, I knew I was a “big girl” because the other kids told me.
That’s when my whispering monster started.
I didn’t really notice the monster at first. I mean, I did. When you’re in fifth grade canvassing a room to see if you’re the biggest kid in there, you know something is different about you. But I didn’t really understand how much power the monster had until the cutting verbosity of seventh grade teenagers shredded holes in the curtain of my denial.
You need to be smaller, the monster would say. Look at how big you are.
I won’t get into details, but suffice it to say that kids and monsters are mean.
Learning to Wog.
Fortunately, I had many friends that loved me in spite of my mongster, one of them being the lean, red-haired, spit-fire Breanna. She invited me to jog with her one day when I was in 8th grade. Because I wanted her to like me and I wanted to be cool and svelte like her, I agreed.
The monster, for once, was quiet.
“Jogging” is an generous term for what I did. (see shuffle and walk.) But it didn’t matter. It was one of the first times that exercise felt good. Breanna didn’t make me feel like the fat kid, and helped me learn how to breathe through side cramps. Silencing the monster felt amazing.
“The world is much more clear after you run,” she pointed out one day. I remember blinking rapidly because she was right. Even my vision had came into sharper focus through the lens of exercise.
After profusely apologizing for being slow, I decided I could do more of this “running” and asked if we could go again the next day.
And the next.
It became our thing together. We’d run in the country by her grandpa’s house. We’d run along the canal. Through the neighborhood. At the cabin. Anywhere. My wog slowly turned into a trot, and then a jog, and eventually I could almost keep up with her on the sprints at the very end.
But never, ever did I beat her.
My monster reminded me all the time.
Fairytales? Pah.
I’d love to tell you I slimmed down to a lean size 6, started a spinning class, and ate only sprouts and carrot sticks sans peanut butter, but it didn’t happen. Sometimes, my love of exercise cancelled out my greater love of food, but not enough to make me like myself. Or be actually healthy. In fact, I kind of went crazy on both in middle school.
In ninth grade I satisfied the monster and joined a gym. I’d work out for an 60-90 minutes after school. My favorite? Walking 4.0 mph on the treadmill until it maxed out at 100 minutes while reading cheesy romance novels.
Hey, I was exercising, so the monster was quiet. Then I could dream of being a damsel-in-distress. Remember, I was kind of bookish weird?
I went from a size 18 in seventh grade to a size 12-14 sometime in ninth. For the most part, I hung out around there. It was a far cry from the emotionally fragile seventh grader that had been made fun of so much, but my insecure monster still thrived, never satisfied. She chanted to me late at night.
Must get smaller. Must get smaller.
Not even exercise could silence the monster now.
Hobby, Shmobby
After getting my RN at twenty and working as a pediatric nurse, my obsession with nutrition and exercise became my favorite hobby.
I dove into half marathons, marathons, centuries (100+ mile bike rides), snow shoeing, lots of hiking, and trail running with gusto. Did my weight drop? Nope. I leaned out, could hike like a boss, but the scale never seemed to go anywhere. I counted calories, drank water, avoided pop, and worked my butt off.
Not literally, of course.
Ever run 20 miles and watched the scale maintain? #frustratingas@#$*(!%*(
Must get smaller, sang the monster. You’re still a size 14. Must do more. Must get smaller.
Figuring It Out
Thanks to other issues in my life, I started seeing a professional therapist and learned that food had *gasp* become the way I didn’t cope with my emotions. Truly, I’d never, ever, ever comprehended that food was an emotional escape. It seems to obvious to me now.
*face palm*
Happy ending?
Not quite. Because no matter what, the monster reminded me that I still wasn’t smaller. Despite an active lifestyle, the pants size didn’t waver. My health was good, and I felt okay with how I looked. A veritable 3-4 on my self-diagnosed “Hotness Scale”.
Then I met the love of my life at 24 and suddenly my perception of health, self, and food took on a whole new meaning. The mega attractive, sarcastic, intelligent guy I was dating didn’t care that I was still imperfect, insecure, needed therapy, size 14, and loved California Pizza Kitchen to a fault.
He also didn’t know about that niggling monster who insisted you aren’t small enough for him.
Loving the Chubby Inside Me
Meeting my husband and realizing that he didn’t care about me being smaller threw everything I perceived about myself into question. I started realizing that I’m good enough just because I’m me, not because I measure up to some defined quality of beauty established by a magazine.
I’d love to tell you that I banished the ugly monster who controlled me like a puppet, who reminds me that my weight hovers dangerously close to Husband, that a wife should be smaller. I’m still not model size perfect and never plan to be. I still love CPK, and I still battle food cravings and the need to turn to food for comfort on a daily basis.
And I still have a monster inside me.
Write It Out
That monster is why I started writing Bon Bons to Yoga Pants. I knew I couldn’t be the only person to have a chubby girl monster, because there are skinny girl monsters, and straight hair monsters, and knobby knee monsters.
There are monsters for everything.
Lexie Greene is born from that insecure, flawed little girl I told you about at the beginning of the post. Like me, Lexie struggles with weight, she doesn’t want to diet, and when things get tough, she turns to Little Debbie. Lexie and I are not the same person; I love exercise and she tolerates it. She has a sister and I don’t. But we are the same insecure little girl with similar monsters.
We’re all fighting monsters. But that doesn’t mean we fight them alone.
We are perfect just the way we are.
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Our War by Craig DiLouie Genre: Dystopian Thriller
THE DARK VERSE by M. Amanuensis Sharkchild Genre: Horror
Tainted Hunter The Huntress Bane Series Book 1 by Derek Shupert Genre: Dark Fantasy
Hometown Girl Memories Hometown Series Book 6 by Kirsten Fullmer Genre: Contemporary Romance
Body Farm Z by Deborah Sheldon Genre: Horror
Australia’s newest body farm, the Victorian Taphonomic Experimental Research
Institute, is hidden in bushland some four hours’ drive from Melbourne.
Scattered across its 150 acres are human donor cadavers and pig carcasses
arranged to mimic some of the ways in which police might find murder victims:
exposed to the elements, buried in a shallow grave, wrapped in tarpaulin.
Forensic scientists and graduate students meticulously track each stage of
putrefaction. Today, Detective Rick Evans of the Homicide Squad is at VITERI
for the re-creation of one of his cold cases. A human donor will be locked
inside a car. But the donor has other ideas… So begins a facility-wide
outbreak of the reanimated dead.
THE SOUL SEARCHERS MYSTERIES
relationship rendered her old life unlivable. What better place to
build a new one than Donn’s Hill, the most haunted town in America
and her favorite childhood vacation spot?
resurface, so does a lost psychic ability to talk to the dead… a
power the poltergeist haunting Mac’s apartment is eager to use.
the ghost-hunting crew of the Soul Searchers, Mac struggles to
control her newfound talents. She’d better get a handle on them
fast, because someone in town is hiding a deadly secret. If Mac can’t
divine the truth, Donn’s Hill will never be the same.
the League of Utah Writers Silver Quill award. “A genre-bending
gem of a book, cozy meets horror meets cat fancier in a unique town
of psychic tourism and ghostly secrets.” -Johnny Worthen, award
winning author of THE FINGER TRAP, THE BRAND DEMAND and WHAT IMMORTAL
HAND
and her spirited tortoiseshell cat, Striker!
The Soul Searchers are a hit, she’s got pet-parenting down, and she
even has a plan to banish the poltergeist running amok at a lakeside
cabin. Best of all, Donn’s Hill feels like home. But not everyone
loves the town as much as Mac.
are lying about their abilities. His determination to destroy the
Soul Searchers threatens Mac’s livelihood, and when a killer
strikes, the sheriff’s suspicions threaten her freedom.
her name… even if that help comes from beyond the grave.
writer. Her debut novel, Donn’s Hill, was awarded the League of Utah
Writers 2017 Silver Quill in the adult novel category and was a 2017
Dragon Award finalist. Watching scary movies through split fingers
terrified Caryn as a child, and those nightmares inspire her to write
now. Her 90-year-old house has a colorful history, and the creaking
walls and narrow hallways send her running (never walking) up the
stairs. Exploring her fears through writing makes Caryn feel a little
less foolish for wanting a buddy to accompany her into the tool shed.
Caryn lives near Salt Lake City, Utah, with her husband and their
clowder of cats. She is an active member of the League of Utah
Writers and the Utah Chapter of the Horror Writers Association. Visit
CarynLarrinaga.com for free short fiction and true tales of haunted places.
The third installment of the Of Light and Blood and saga is up on Amazon for pre-order!

The third installment of the Of Light and Blood and saga is up on Amazon
for pre-order!
It’s only 99 cents until release day, December 12, 2019
Click
HERE~>Illuminated to preorder your copy. 😀
Illuminated
Their past holds the key…
From the moment Loti Dupree and Wolf Arrighi arrive at their
not-so-quaint hotel, they sense something timeworn and awful pulsing
inside its walls. It’s not the cockroaches or the old, dirty linens.
It’s not the unkempt room or the mite-ridden parrots in the lobby. It’s
something far more sinister, some lingering evil crossing time and
space.
Somewhere, sometime in the depths of the strange, otherworldly hotel is
something too ghastly to be witnessed. Buried in the dark recesses is an
unspeakable horror they must bring to the light– and a connection to
their past that can help them save everything and everyone they love.
Read books 1 & 2 (Also on Kindle Unlimited)

About Melissa
Lummis
Paranormal Romance and Fantasy author Melissa Lummis lives in the
mountains of Virginia with her husband and two kids who are her support
system and constant inspiration.
When she’s not manifesting with the moon or mixing up magic, you can
find her cloistered in her Yurt diving into her fantasy world to craft
supernatural heart-stopping and heart-warming adventures for her
characters.
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