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Countess Drusilla Steele’s Guide to Weight Loss

Copyright 2019 Fiona Tate

Published by Fiona Tate at Smashwords

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Table of Contents


My Wedding Day, October 2011

February 2017.

Step One: Get Fat

Step Two: Take Your Fat Photo

Step Three: Choose how you’re going to lose weight

Step Four: Learn to say “NO”

Step Four: Decide if you’re going to exercise

Step Five: Plan how to manage the downside of losing weight

What Happens Next Parting thoughts

About the Author

Further Reading

The Twins Begin

Coming Soon

The Childless Mother


Welcome, Dear Reader, welcome. If you’ve bought this tome, I feel safe to assume that you’ve reached a time in your life when you need to make some changes.

Good for you!

If you’re expecting to read some good advice about how to get rid of that extra weight and how to keep it off, then you’ll be a happy woman by the time you reach the end of the final chapter.

But I must warn you, if you’re looking for a magic cure, better ask for a refund, because you ain’t gonna find it here. There isn’t a magic cure. If you’re the type of person who’s reached the point where you must make a major change, then you’re never going to be the type of person who doesn’t have to pay attention to your weight.

Did you notice that I didn’t say “then you’re never going to be the type of person who doesn’t have to worry about your weight?” That was deliberate. I don’t care what size you are, worrying about your weight is a choice. Therefore, you can also choose not to worry about your weight. If that’s your decision, I applaud you.

I would love to be someone who doesn’t worry about my weight, I truly would. Mainly for vanity reasons, I would love to be the kind of woman who wears sleeveless tops and doesn’t give a shit about how heavy her arms are. But I’m not. Not yet anyway. One of the things losing weight has done for me, is give me more confidence about how fucking good I look right now! Yes, right now. Even though I still want to lose another 20kg.

At my heaviest, I hit 150kg. I’m only five feet tall. I didn’t like being 150kg. I also don’t really like being five feet tall, but now that I’ve lost 40kg I can wear heels again. Heels really help when your Count is 6 foot tall and thin. Bastard!

Anyhoo, as I was saying. I once weighed 150kg. I didn’t weigh that amount for long. For some reason, that I’ve never really understood, that was my limit. That was when I said “enough.”

A conversation I’d had with my Doctor a few months earlier contributed as well, I must admit. I’d gone for my three-monthly visit to get my medication for Depression and High Blood Pressure. And my blood pressure medication had to be increased. Again.


I remember asking him “So what else can we do? You can’t just keep giving me more medication.”

His reply? “Well, we can actually.”

And that was all he said on the topic. He didn’t even say “You know, you really should lose weight.” He obviously thought it would have been a pointless sentence to utter. I truly believe the man thought I couldn’t be bothered to try losing weight. After all, I’d let myself get to this point, so I obviously didn’t care about my health or how I looked, did I?

I’m willing to admit I may be doing the man a disservice here, but I don’t think so. For whatever reason, he was content to just keep feeding me more pills…wait…no, there was that one time when I asked him how to lose weight and he told me to “eat more protein and less carbs” and then proceeded to tell me how he’d lost 12kg by tramping over hills during his Christmas holidays.

Uh huh. Thanks for that.

I lost weight when I was fucking well ready to and not a second before. Not when I wanted to, you understand. I’d wanted to lose weight for years before then, particularly before I got married. But nope. It wasn’t until I was ready to do it, that it happened. And there was no magic involved either, I’m afraid. But after saying that, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be either.

So, with the help of one of my more annoying subjects, Doubting Thomasina, here’s my guide to losing weight.


And please, drop me a line if you have any words of praise to offer. If you have any words of criticism, you can send them too if you like. I won’t pay any attention, of course, but it might help you to get it off your chest.

My Wedding Day, October 2011

I’m not quite at my heaviest here, and I still gained more after this was taken.

February 2017


Step one: Get fat

Oh, Come on! Really, Countess Drusilla? Get fat? That part’s not obvious?

No. Apparently not. You see, there are some very silly people out there who think that putting on a couple of kilos makes them fat. The Countess disrespectfully states that it does not.

Fat is when you can’t wipe your own backside.

Fat is when you can’t go for a walk with someone you love. Or run away from someone you don’t.

Fat is when you have one t-shirt and one extremely stretchy pair of pants to wear in public.

Fat is when you can’t vacuum one room without having to lie down and rest.

Fat is when you realize you’re disabled. You can no longer do any of the things that make your life worthwhile. Or even bearable.

Fat is when shop assistants ignore you. Or assume you’ll steal from them.

Fat is when children stare at you and men don’t even look at you unless they’re giving their mate a hard time.

Fat is when people assume you’re stupid, because why else would you let yourself get to that size?

Fat is when you look in the mirror and only see your expertly made-up face, because you can’t bear to look at anything else.

Fat is when you’re too embarrassed to eat in public because you assume everybody’s looking at what you’re eating and judging you.

Fat is when you hide yourself away from people to make yourself less visible.

Fat is when you assume, you’re too heavy to be able to do anything about it.

So, are you getting the point? Fat is when you decide you’ve had enough. And only you can decide when to make that decision. Unless you’re 2kg overweight and you’re calling yourself fat. You’re not fat. You’re pretentious and obviously seeking attention. Or you’re ill, in which case, please see your Doctor immediately.

In case it’s still not clear, let me explain a little more. If you’re a size 26 and perfectly happy being a size 26, you’re not fat. You’re…I don’t know, whatever term you want to use to describe yourself. Entirely your decision.

But if you’re a size 26 and unhappy about it, then you’re fat. Oh, you can call yourself obese, overweight, chubby, whatever the fuck you like. I don’t care. But if you want to get thinner, there’s some stuff you’re going to have to do.

And I do mean have to do. This is not one of those books where you can skip a chapter and come back later. It doesn’t work that way. If you’re ready. Really ready, then keep reading and I’ll tell you the steps that helped me lose 40kg and will help me lose another 20kg.

Step two: Take your fat photo

Fat photo? Countess Drusilla, I’m sure you mean motivational photo, don’t you?

Nope. I said fat photo and I meant fat photo.

Look, being nice about this isn’t going to work. If you can’t be rude and obnoxious to yourself who can you be rude and obnoxious to?

Well, there’s the Count.

I digress. If you want to use words like motivational, plus size, curvy, go right ahead, I have no problem with that. But these are the words of people who are happy with how they are. This book isn’t for them. The Countess will probably write a book for them in the future because I admire and respect those women and I truly appreciate what they’re doing for the rest of us. But this book? This book is for women who aren’t happy and being nice to yourself isn’t going to get results. You need to get honest.

But Countess, if I talk to myself like that, I’ll end up Depressed.

Nope. No. You won’t. Let me tell you why.

You’re going to do something about it. If you’ve made the decision to lose weight, then you’re not happy. You don’t like how you look, or how you feel, or the food you’re eating. You’re already sitting on the edge of the Depression cliff, if you haven’t already toppled over. Calling yourself fat ain’t gonna make much difference sweetheart. Own it, woman, tell it like it is.

So. As I said. Take your fat photo. Now, your fat photo doesn’t have to be anything special. You can take it naked, clothed, in your underwear, sitting, standing, lying down. Who fucking cares? The point is, take a photo of yourself, print it, and slap it up somewhere you’ll see it.

Every. Single. Day.

Don’t stick it on the fridge so everybody in the house can see it as well. That’s just going to make you feel like shit and you’ll be more likely to pull it down. Mine’s on my computer in my crypt, where I work every day. Only the Count has seen it and that’s the way it’s going to stay. Besides he’s never really noticed my size anyway. (Yes, I do know how lucky I am.)

So, once you’ve put your fat photo up in a place where only you can see it, you need to keep looking at it. Yes, that’s right.

Look. At. It.

If you’re not actively looking at that photo, then it’s pointless even having it. If you can ignore it, the way you used to ignore your body when you looked in the mirror, then it’s not doing its job.

Look. At. It.

Really look at it. I’m sorry, am I being repetitive? Good. Because that’s what you need to do. Look at it, look at it, and look at it again. It ain’t gonna to help you otherwise. Your fat photo is there to remind you of what you never want to be again. Use it wisely.

Step three: Choose how you’re going to lose weight

Alright, Oh Wise Countess Drusilla. I’m ready to hear about which diet to follow to lose the weight.

Well you’re going to be bitterly disappointed then, aren’t you?

Do your own fucking research. Just like I had to. What the hell makes you think that there’s anyone out there who knows your own body better than you do? Pffft!

Look, there’s plenty of options. Every Women’s magazine, ever published, will tell you how each celebrity loses weight, or maintains it, or gets fit. Of course, half of what you read is complete bullshit, the celebrity in question doesn’t even know they’re being written about.

The other half that you read will be the complete opposite to what the magazine told you last month. But hey? If following the ever-changing advice in the magazines works for you, then the Countess’s advice is “go for it.”

Surgery’s an option. Kind of. If you live in little old New Zealand though, you’re going to have to leave the country to get it. And spend a shit load of money on flights, accommodation, and the surgery itself.

Oh wait…No…You can get on a waiting list (in Christchurch anyway) for a “trial” that’s been running for the last 6 or so years. They do a piddling amount of surgeries every year and you must be under a certain weight to be considered.

Yep. I said under. Apparently fat people cannot get fat loss surgery if they’re too fat. Our health system would much rather pay for endless medication, injury compensation, and avoidable surgeries than pay for an anesthetic over a certain number of milligrams.

But Countess, surgery is dangerous for overweight people!

And it’s not for anyone else? Don’t be daft, Doubting Thomasina! Surgery is dangerous, full stop. Is it more dangerous than High Blood Pressure? Diabetes? Heart Disease? What about Depression? Angina? Breathing problems? I repeat. Pffft!

I can guarantee you that if you were to ask someone who had been turned down for weight loss surgery if they would be happy to take the risk, they’d say yes. In a heartbeat. They probably don’t think they have much quality of life now anyway.

Okay…so what about Diet pills?

Ahhh, the magic diet pills! Remember when the Countess tried those? The new wonder drug guaranteed to make you skinny? (No, I don’t need to name it, you know which one I mean. Besides they’re all interchangeable anyway.)

Yes indeedy, those were fabulous! Of course, farting was a frightening experience. And wearing light colored clothing was not an option. But hey, the Countess never liked pastels anyway.

Oh, and side effects? If you decide to go that route, more power to you, but I would strongly advise not reading the list of side effects on the side of the box. If they tell you about them. If you are, in fact, able to read the tiny writing, you will immediately become nauseous, sweaty, experience heart palpitations, diarrhea, constipation, blurred vision and loss of hearing. Then again, you might have lost 2kg overnight. Oh, and don’t go out in sunlight. (As if the Countess ever would!).

And then, of course, there’s the good, old, eat less carbs, more protein, method. Yep, it’s that easy. Obviously. That’s why nobody is fat. Everybody eats less carbs and more protein. For fuck’s sake, I’m sure it was a 17yr old male that came up with that little gem.

Look, most of us know the theory. We probably know all the theories. Everything we’ve tried so far hasn’t worked, but who knows? Maybe it will the next time. The Countess’s advice? Do what works for you and what is even remotely sustainable. You may have to try a few things out until you get what’s right for you, but only you can decide what that is.

Now, I’m sure if you show the above paragraph to any Doctor, Nurse, or health nut they’re going to say I’m advocating unhealthy, dangerous, habits. I don’t care. Only you can decide what’s worth the risk for yourself. What disadvantage outweighs what advantages. Your body. Your life. Your choice.

But Countess, if you follow some fad diet, you may lose a lot of weight, but you’re only going to put it all back on again when you stop dieting. And probably even more!

Oh, Fuuuuuuuck Ooooooooooffff! When the time comes that you need to lose a shitload of weight, it is not the time to worry about how you’re going to keep it off when you do lose it! You worry about that when you’re three months away from where you want to be. You make a plan, you blow it, you tweak the plan, you stick to it, you manage it. Or you don’t. Not the point, and not what you should be worrying about when you’re trying to lose years of weight gain


Right. So, what was step three again?

Oh yes! Decide how you’re going to do it. Talk to people. Real people, not those amazing women who went on a diet and lost 8kg. Real women, who have lost a lot of weight. And take their advice with a grain of salt, they can only tell you what worked for them. Do some reading. From the Public Library. Don’t spend a fortune on books that may, or may not, be helpful.

Talk to some health professionals and health nuts. I’m not saying they don’t know anything, I’m just saying that a lot of them only know the theory and not the practice. Soak it all up, Sweetheart. And then decide what works for you. Try it. If it doesn’t work, try something else.

Just decide and give it your best shot.

Step four: Learn to say “no”

Remember when you first started dating and your mother constantly begged you to say “No”?

You need to remember what you did then. Or, if you’re anything like me, do the opposite of what you did then.

You need to get comfortable with saying “no” and that my Bawkie Bairns, takes practice.

You need to get used to the idea that there’s going to be some people (mostly, not always, but mostly, arseholes) that don’t want you to lose weight. They don’t want you to step out of the box they’ve put you in, or you’ve put yourself in. They don’t want to see you succeed where they’ve failed. They might worry that you’ll become someone else, you might not be their crazy boozehound friend anymore.

You might not be any fun anymore. They may not be able to relate to you anymore. You may not want them anymore. Blah…blah…blah…Trust me, they’ll get used to it. And if they really do care, like they say they do, then they’re going to be happy for you. You may even inspire them to make their own changes.

To be fair, a lot of these people have seen you try and fail before. And let’s face it. There’s probably a part of you now that doesn’t think you can do it either. This time’s different though. This time you’ve had enough. So, fuck em. That’s their stuff, not yours.

But it’s going to take some work. You’re used to eating all that shit. You’re used to drinking all that shit. You’re used to taking whatever’s offered to you. After all, there’s starving children in Africa. You’re used to pigging out with the girls while watching movies. (Don’t you just love those nights?) We’re not used to saying “no.” To anything. From anyone. Particularly the people we love but saying “no” is what you’re going to have to do. So, practice it.

But Countess, how do I practice it? Like, in the mirror and stuff?

Sigh…No Thomasina, you twit. Not in the mirror. What’s the point in saying no to yourself? Assuming you even have a reflection? You must practice with other people. Firmly and without hesitation.

Look at these examples:

Your husband asks you if you still find him attractive after all these years? NO.

Your children ask you if they really must go to bed right now? NO.

Your employer asks you to accept a promotion? NO.

Your best friend asks you if you like her new man? NO.

The stranger ahead of you in the grocery store asks you if you want to go first? NO.

That nice young man, Chris Hemsworth, asks you if you’d like to go to dinner with him. NO.

Do you see what I’m getting at? Saying no is not going to come naturally. After all, you didn’t get fat by saying no, now did you? But don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. If you’re really struggling with this step, try to start with something easy and work your way up to the hard stuff.

The Countess, for example, finds it very easy to say no to the Count, but not so easy to say no to her local barman.

Step four: Decide if you’re going to exercise

Let’s get a few things clear right now:

Countess Drusilla Steele is a woman of elegance, impeccable style, and superior makeup skills.

Countess Drusilla Steele is a woman whose time is precious and whose company is sought after.

Countess Drusilla Steele does not like to sweat therefore Countess Drusilla Steele does not like to exercise.

But Countess, perhaps you just haven’t found an exercise you enjoy yet?

My dear Doubting Thomasina, exercise and enjoy are not words that the Countess ever uses in the same sentence. Or even paragraph. Not even when it’s the Count’s birthday.

You know, there was a time when dieting was enough. It wasn’t really until those weird people in those garish leotards started to shout at people over obnoxiously loud music that we even heard of the word exercise outside of a military training camp.

Exercise, my arse. When you’re 150kg, getting out of bed is enough exercise to keep you going until lunch time.

However, Countess Drusilla is nothing if not open-minded, so if you want to take up some form of exercise, go right ahead. I ain’t gonna stop you. (That sounds far too exhausting)

The point I’m trying to make here is that exercise is optional, not essential. I’ve lost 40kg without any exercise at all (don’t worry, the chapter about how to manage floppy, loose, skin is coming soon.)

Besides, what is exercise if not movement?

When you’re feeling fat and blobby, moving your body is fucking hard! When you start to lose some weight though, moving gets easier. Which means you naturally move a bit more than you did 20kg ago.

You can go out dancing again. That’s not exercise, that’s having fun.

You can go swimming with the kids. Once again, not exercise, just good parenting.

You can give your Count an early birthday present, not exercise, just working on your relationship.

You can walk around the mall comfortably. Shopping. Not exercise.

If exercise floats your boat, do it. If exercise makes you feel either homicidal, suicidal, or both, don’t do it. Who cares? Are the kilos coming off? You’re doing it right then. Whatever “it” is. And don’t forget you can always take up kick-boxing later down the track.

Step five: Plan how you’re going to manage the downside of losing weight

Downside? Really? Countess Drusilla, I’ve suspected you of losing your marbles in the past but now I know you’ve really lost it! What downside could there possibly be to losing weight?

Listen (read) this part very carefully my Bawkie Bairns. There are downsides to losing weight. Well, maybe downside is the wrong word…Ummm…how can I put this eloquently…?…there’s shit that ain’t so good. Shit that nobody tells you about. Shit that isn’t spoken of in polite company.

Do I need to tell you how Countess Drusilla feels about polite company? No? I didn’t think so.

You must understand that as the weight has gone on, the skin has had to stretch. Now the weight is coming off, but the skin is still stretched. And if you lose a lot of weight, that’s a lot of skin just hanging around, doing nothing. Apart from giving you pain, itching you can’t get at, and underwear issues, that is.

Can you hear that? That’s the shouting of thousands of exercise freaks going “If you exercise, you won’t have flabby skin.” Maybe not. But probably, yes. When you keep stretching an elastic band sooner or later it’s going to just stay stretched. Your skins’ like that too.

Yes, if you drink heaps of water, lift weights, use creams, you will lessen your chances of flabby skin. Actually, the cream is really doubtful, but let me know if you can prove me wrong.

But even if you do manage to get rid of flabby skin, your body still ain’t gonna be perfect, Sweetheart. And it ain’t gonna be how you remember it, either.

It was 20 years ago, Honey, move on. Yes, you were thin, your body was toned, your face unwrinkled. But you were 20 years old! And you thought you were fat then, remember? Even if you were huge at 20 years old but lost a lot of weight, your body still ain’t gonna be what it used to be.

You were a child! Now you’re an adult! Well, adult-sized anyway. So, deal with it. Get your head around the notion that the time for young and gorgeous has passed. You’re now moving into older and gorgeous. Trust me, it has its advantages.

There’s also the issue of clothing. After a huge weight loss, when you yell “I haven’t got anything to wear”, you probably really haven’t. And clothes are fucking expensive! And if you’re anything like me, you did a lot of internet shopping, and spent a lot of time and money (I mean a lot of money) looking for clothes that fit you, that didn’t look like your Grandmother’s curtains. Because they were expensive, you kept them “for good” and hardly wore them. Now they’re too big!

Remain calm. You have options. You can sell those babies online, get some cash for them, and go and buy something that does fit. Or you can get clever and learn how to sew. Actually, you don’t need to learn how to sew really, just learn how to take things in. Keep in mind though, if you do take clothes in, they’re no longer a certain size and you’ve got next to nil chance of selling them on.

And there comes a time when you can’t take them in anymore, they just end up misshapen and weird looking. I’ve heard. Obviously, the Countess does not have to worry about such trivial things as finances.

Now, while I remember. If you manage to sell some of your fatshion and find yourself some cash to spend, you may have a bit of trouble figuring out what to buy.

Oh, come on Countess Dru, there’s gotta be heaps more options when you’re thin! There are more shops you can go into for starters.

Ahh, but which styles suit you? Which styles don’t? You have boobs now, a waist, a body shape. Distinctly defined areas not just chins waterfalling down to your ankles. You now have more options, therefore more choices. And what size are you now?

Even if you are skinny, you’ll know that answering the question “what size are you?” is an absolute bitch. There are no rules, you see. There are no standard, universal, size measurements. You could be a size 10 in one brand and a size 20 in another. (okay, bit of an exaggeration, but I think I made my point) There’s even size differences within the same brand.

Add to this, the fact that for the last few years, you’ve just bought clothes that covered you and that were loose and comfortable. (Yep, that’s right. If you wore stretchy pants and baggy t-shirts nobody could tell you were fat.)

Now when you try on a top and it feels snug, you must ask the sales assistant (or your mum) if it’s meant to fit like that? Tight is now a design feature not a natural occurrence.

And then there’s your self-confidence. Don’t roll your eyes at me, Doubting Thomasina, this is an actual issue for some women. Not the Countess of course, self-confidence was never an issue for the Countess.

But for some women, they’ve used their weight gain to hide. Or they’ve put on the weight so that there’s less chance of anyone approaching them and they won’t have to deal with all that scary relationship stuff. After several years of feeling crappy about themselves, they’ve probably talked themselves into believing they can’t do all kinds of things. Like losing weight, getting a good job, meeting a new man, making new friends.

And then they lose weight.

Great. Now fucking what?

What happens next?

Aah well, now you must deal with The Realization.

Countess Drusilla, what is The Realization?

Doubting Thomasina! I’m so pleased you asked.

The Realization is when you figure out that your life is still your life. You are still broke, you are still lonely, you are still unhappy. You’re just all those things while being thinner.

Look, my Bawkie Bairns, it is true that not all your problems will be solved when you lose weight. But what is also true, is that you might just feel like you’re a bit more equipped to deal with those problems.

My body is now 40kg lighter but I’m still the gorgeous creature that I, the Countess, always was. I’m just a bit more active, a bit less tired, and a lot more confident that I can cope with anything the Universe throws my way.

Was the dieting worth it? You bet your fucking life it was!

Do I still want to lose more? Yep. There’s a bat jersey in the not yet drawer that I will be wearing in public before the winter is over.

Will I be happier when I lose more weight? Yes, probably. And no, probably. I’ll deal with that one when I get to it.

Parting thoughts

Countess Drusilla, thank you so much for your wisdom and advice, which you’ve delivered with such eloquence and intelligence. Do you have any further advice for your loyal subjects?

Oh, Doubting Thomasina, of course I do, of course.

My loyal subjects who have followed my guide faithfully, are now thinner, but still unfortunate. There are more guides to come, to help them manage the other issues they have.

Watch for these further titles:

Countess Drusilla Steele’s guide to managing finances. Obviously, the Countess will have to interview one of the servants for this one as she certainly doesn’t waste her precious time and energy on such trifles as bills and mortgages.

Countess Drusilla Steele’s guide to decorating castle bedchambers. This tome will include a bonus section on how to turn the castle dungeon into a suitable space for a Countess to create her fripperies and such.

Countess Drusilla Steele’s guide to setting up one of those new-fangled blog thingy’s. Oh, the Countess is a true genius at setting these things up. She does have a few issues with writing on the blogs when they’re set up though, so don’t expect a sequel to this one.

Countess Drusilla Steele’s guide to planning, scheduling, and writing lists. Oh, you lucky, lucky, Bawkie Bairns! The Countess is the absolute authority on time management, diary scheduling and making lists of all varieties and flavors. This is the must-have tome of the century!

The end.

About the Author

Fiona Tate lives in a small seaside village in New Zealand with her husband and furbabies, where she writes, reads, and occasionally does housework.

Fiona works as a freelance copywriter and blogger and you can check out her services here:

Fiona also works online with women who are childless by circumstance. Her own experience, coupled with a Degree in Psychology and years spent working with people living with mental illness, inspired her to create a program that helps women find joy and fulfillment in their unscheduled, unconventional lives. You can read more about her and her program at

Countess Drusilla Steele lives in a castle, on a clifftop, somewhere cold and windy. She spends her time torturing the servants, making the Count miserable, and writing incredibly helpful guides for those less fortunate than her glorious self. She may, or may not be, a Vampire.

Doubting Thomasina is a…well…who really cares?

Other works by this author

The Twins Begin

The twins, Nyree and Nathaniel, grew up in orphanages and foster families in Christchurch, New Zealand, but they always knew that when they were finally old enough, they were going to make something of themselves. And they did. It wasn't quite what they expected though. The Vampire saw to that.

This is the story of how the Twins began their new life and is part of a new forthcoming book series, the Behind the World series by Fiona Tate.

Coming Soon:

The Childless Mother

All Serena Maxwell ever wanted to be was a mother. And it was about to happen, she just knew the treatments would work this time. They had to.

But then Paul changed his mind and decided he didn’t want children anymore. He had other plans.

While Serena was trying to decide what she was going to do next, someone, or something, took the rest of her choices away from her.

What Serena did next was either understandable, or irrational, depending on your point of view. The consequences, however, were wide-reaching and for some, intolerable.

I really appreciate you reading my book! Here’s where you can find me:

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