Chapter 1

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Greeting, gorgeous reader! Welcome to the story closest to my heart.

Personally, I've always struggled with my body image. I hate the way the numbers on the scale can affect my entire outlook on life, or the way food can dictate my moods. I've always envied the girls who don't have to break a sweat to stay slender, while I have so much respect for the women who put in the hours on the gym or make good eating choices every day.

This book was written at a time when I was searching for balance in my life - and now, over 6 million reads later, it seems to have helped thousands of other people too. Whether you're struggling with your weight, how you perceive your body imageor simply looking for a book with romance and heart, I hope this story touches you too.

Finally, apologies for all the words written with symbols - Wattpad's publishing system automatically scans for naughty words and ups the rating accordingly. I really want this story to stay PG-13 so it is accessible to most readers, as I believe the issues in this book touch so many people, and that's why you'll see silly words like r@pe and n1pples.

xxoo Kate

I stared deep down the barrel of the camera and told the world, "So, as far as I'm concerned, if you put your boobs out on display, don't act all indignant when someone looks at them!"

My scantily-clad guest, a twenty-something blogger from Melbourne, dressed in hotpants and a beaded corset which pushed her breasts up to her chin, hissed at me defensively, "Uh, I'm sorry, but that's totally wrong! It's my body and I have the choice to dress however I want, without being ogled by dirty old men!" She sat like a trucker, her knee-high leather boots spread wide apart.

"You're right." I sipped from my mug, feeling invincible at my expansive desk. "You do have the choice. You choose to dress like a slutty pirate wench, and that's your right. However, other people have the choice to react to your lack of modesty by looking at you. You can't tell me you're not asking for attention in that get-up?"

"Omigod, are you saying that I'm asking to get r@ped?" Chloe's glossy lips fell open in disgust.

Bugger. Why did people always misconstrue what I said?

As usual, my co-host saved me. Matt said, "Chloe, that's not what Evianna said. No woman, no matter how she's dressed, is ever asking for sexual assault. But, if you put yourself out on display, can you honestly say you're surprised if people look a little longer?"

Matt's eyes dropped to Chloe's heaving boobs, the n1pples just barely contained under the fabric. She noticed and squawked, "Oi, pervert! My eyes are up here!"

"Oh, get over yourself," I said, done with the silly girl. "God, even I can't stop staring at them, and I'm straight!"

Her mouth fell open, but nothing else came out. I looked back to the camera and began wrapping up the segment. "So, there you have it! Guys, we'd love to hear your opinions about dressing for attention on our Twitter feed, or you can hit our website, jumpstart.com.au."

"You're just jealous!" Chloe had apparently recovered, her scathing voice ringing loudly around the little studio. "Fat chicks like you are always jelly of hot bitches like me! You just wish you could wear what I wear and look this good. How many guys have you dated this year? Why would they want your squishy arse when they could have this?"

She stood, turning around and shaking her pert little rump at Matt and me. "Oh, sweetie," I said nicely, "hurry along before this 'fat chick' squashes you like a bug." I gave her a menacing look and she quailed.

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