Freda was born skinny. 4 pounds, 5 ounces. She wasn’t the smallest baby ever born, obviously, but she was the smallest ever recorded in her particular family — which alarmed her grandparents, who gasped when they saw her and immediately demanded that her formula be supplemented with Carnation evaporated milk. When they held her, they secretly slipped tiny squares of Hershey chocolate onto her tongue. By the time she was 3 months old, she weighed 20 pounds.

The sweets never stopped. For breakfast, she ate oatmeal with butter and sugar. Dinner at noon featured meat and potatoes. At 3 o’clock every day, she sat down for “lunch,” just like on the farm — a quick sandwich and a slice of pie to tide her over until supper. At 6, the family had hotdishes of pasta or tater tots and cream of mushroom soup. And after the weather at 10:15, she would retire for the night with her bedtime treat: a bowl of cereal or ice cream.

Despite the 24-hour feeding schedule, Freda never topped 250 pounds. She never thought to be ashamed of her size, either. Instead, her girth was evidence of her family’s delight in her birth, their pleasure in her continued existence, and their desire to keep her satiated every moment of the day.

All that changed when she fell in love with a nudist.

Fred wasn’t just born thin; he stayed thin. On the day they met, Fred was 6 feet tall and he weighed 145 pounds.

After dating for three months, he weighed 147 pounds — but he never went higher, no matter how many meals he shared with Freda’s family.

And when Fred introduced Freda to his tribe, she realized that no one at the nudist colony was as plump as she.

Instead, they worked and soaked in the Florida sun, bathing in golden rays until their skin was a uniform, glorious bronze from head to toe. Yes, there was an occasional woman with a supple dinner roll of flesh stretched politely across her hips, but no one’s curves could compare to Freda’s.

Freda could have lingered in the shadows, outcast by her own voluptuous form.

Instead, she decided to appoint herself their queen.

She stripped off her nightgown every morning — because she never could adjust to sleeping in the nude — and illuminated her skin like the pages of an ancient manuscript.

She started with body paint, in glorious hues of ruby and emerald. She outlined her breasts in silver and gold, and pierced her navel with a genuine diamond that caught the light when she stood tall. She braided her hair with ribbons, and glued gemstones to the soles of her shoes.

And when she danced her way onto the grounds, the other nudists clapped and bowed, and asked for second helpings at their meals.

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Writer and Writing Coach

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