I was a chubby kid. (I’m also a chubby mother because of a plus-40 pound weight gain during my pregnancy, but that’s a subject for another rant-worthy blog). My cousins called me chubby, my track coach called me chubby, and even my mom and grandfather called me chubby. Was I offended by this occasional term of endearment? Sure. I mean, would I call my daughter chubby if she was?
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