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Art

I stopped dancing around the same time I decided to stop starving myself. If I was really going to kick my eating disorder, if I was really going to, in the cringe-inducing terms of the body love movement, “make friends with my body,” it probably wasn’t a good idea, I figured, to put it in a leotard and spend many hours a week in a room full of mirrors.

We vaguely religious types, less at home at church than we are on Susan Miller’s website, in a yoga class, and in the pages of self-help books, tend to only turn to the G-man when we’re really lost.

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