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Här är ett litet smakprov från "The big bones diet":
It was when I
remembered it. Mom's line.
She was the only
one who always stood up for me when everyone else was bullying me. Then she
would say:
"He has big
bones!"
It was always the
bones. My big bones. Of course!
If I hadn't had big
bones, everything would’ve been fine! Then I wouldn’t have been so plump and
repulsive. Then I would’ve had a girlfriend and a good life.
First it was a
bitter assessment: I had a cross and I was doomed to lug it down the rocky road
of life until the day I died (probably of failing heart or some other fat-related
cause). My problem was something that could not be fixed. An Impossibility.
But then, a few
days later, when I was standing at the operating table working on a woman’s
nerves that were attached to her ulna, I suddenly realized it was not an
impossibility. I looked into the woman's laid open arm and realized that I
certainly could - and would - do it.
That evening I was
exhilarated like a child. But there was so much that needed to be planned for
it to work. Besides being my most difficult operation, the circumstances during
and afterwards would require meticulous planning.
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