Audre Lorde (activist/poet)

 The first diet/ excercise regimen I put myself on was when I was seven. I was convinced that I was fat and that in order to get the attention of anyone I would have to lose weight. Looking back, or more precisely looking at pictures of me at that age, I cannot imagine where my bad body image came from. I was neither fat nor skinny. I was perfect. I was healthy. I was cute. And yet I hated my body.

Around the time I began dieting I also began sneaking food, as in when no-one else was around I would indulge in spoonfuls of peanut butter dipped in sugar, frosting straight out of the can (still a favorite of mine), or entire boxes of my mother’s Weight Watchers chocolate cake.

A story my father loves to tell  (which I don’t mind saying is getting pretty damned old) is of the time when, in my early teens, I went to Maine to stay with him over winter break. One day he took his skidoo out for a ride and while he was gone I ate an entire box of Queen Anne’s chocolate covered cherries, the cheap kind with the white gooey stuff at the bottom. Yummmy. Anyway, every time my dad tells the story he ends with “I don’t know why you thought you had to hide that from me.” Neither do I. But somewhere along the way I learned that thinness equated to being loveable and eating sweets in front of people meant I was weak of mind and spirit. And for most of my adolescent and adult life I was stuck with those ideals.

In my teens ( a very traumatic time in my life) I went from fat,to chubby, to average sized. In my twenties I went from thin to scary skinny. At five six and 118 pounds wearing a size two, I still thought my thighs were enormous so I exercised and dieted and berated myself every time I looked in the mirror thinking (apparently) that self-deprecation would get me down a few more pounds, a few more sizes. . . . Despite that I looked like a bobble head doll, I did not think I was thin enough. I remember going into the Gap and trying on a skin-tight black dress and asking the sales woman if it made me look fat? After she stopped glaring at me she said, “no,” in a tone that intimated if I asked again she was going to take me out back and pummel my scrawny ass. I was on the verge of anorexia and prayed that the compulsion to eat would leave me.  Fortunately it did not, despite my best efforts.

In my thirties I have been a size twelve,  a size four,  a size eight (where I happily reside now) and every size in between. I recently decided that I was sick of dieting, sick of comparing myself to others just so I could tell myself I wasn’t thin enough (i.e. good enough). I literally threw my hands in the air and said, “that’s it. I’m done. No more dieting. No more weighing myself, no more berating myself. I like who I am, and I’m not losing one more god-damned pound.”

Shortly after this not-quite-mid-life epiphany I came across the book Feed Me in the “Women’s Studies” section at Barnes and Noble. As it turns out I am not the only woman in the world who started dieting at an obscenely early age, nor am I the only woman who eats frosting out of the can, or has traded in dieting for self-love/ care.

The first story I opened up to was entitled “In the House of Jean Nidetch” by Whitney Otto. Oh, how I could relate. The first time I joined WW, I was in my early teens, and the youngest person in the room. In fact I was the only person under the age of twenty and I thought that there was something seriously wrong with me  because I was fat.  My best friend at the time was über thin. She had an overactive thyroid and could eat anything she wanted without gaining so much as an ounce (bitch!) . Her mother once said that she was proud of me because out of all of her daughters fat friends I was the only one trying to lose weight. I’m sure she meant it as a compliment, but for someone who thought that fat equated to unloveable I did not take it as such.

Otto’s story is only one of many that I found myself either laughing, crying, cringing, or nodding my head to and thinking “yup, been there done that.” Between  the covers of my new favorite non-fiction book of all time are twenty-three stories written (by women) in memoir form and covering all issues concerning food and body. It is a book that all women can identify with on some level because, let’s face it, the world has gone crazy with the obsession to be thin, to be perfect, to look like one of the many bobble headed women that stare out at us from every magazine cover at the checkout counter  or strut  across the big screen making thin (or super skinny) look easy and natural. For most of us (because only about 7% of the population is born with a modelesque physique) it is not.

As for the writing; it is fabulous, heartfelt, funny, and most importantly honest. I implore you, if you have ever struggled with dieting, bad body image, or a boyfriend who kindly suggests you skip desert then do yourself a favor and read this book.

For a sneak peek into what I hope is the first of many books done in this style you can visit   8384013-Feed-Me-Edited-by-Harriet-Brown-3-Stories  and, assuming that I did this right, you can read the intro by Harriet Brown, and the first three stories in the book.

Enjoy.

If you have not read “Sunshine” by Robin McKinley then you are truly missing out. Unfortunately (as far as I know) there is no sequal to this book, which is a pity since it is so GREAT! Neil Gaiman (author of Stardust- Good Omens-Neverwhere etc) says McKinnley’s story is”Pretty much perfect.” I agree. This is the kind of book that can be read over and over without getting bored. In fact I look foreword to reading it at least once a year, it’s just that good.

About the book: the protagonist, Sunshine, is kidnapped by a group of vampires and chained to the floor in a room with a half starved vampire named Con who is also chained to the floor. I will not spoil the story by telling you what happens next, only that Sunshine’s life will never be the same. Her life, by the way, is pretty ordinary prior to this incident. She is a baker for one of the town’s most infamous eateries. She lives alone in a cute little apartment, is fairly close with her family, has a boyfriend, a crappy car, and is surrounded by werewolves, vampires, and magical users of all kinds.

Although this description may sound like many other fantasy fiction stories you have read (if in fact you have read any other fantasy fiction stories) it is not. I guarantee that if you like supernatural tales, you will love this one. Even my husband liked it, and he generally prefers dark fantasy (as in Salvatore, Jordan, and, Stirling to name a few). Though it does lean towards the darker side, there is enough humor throughout that keeps it from getting depressingly so.

I have recently watched a movie which had me asking this very question, it’s title (drum roll please) The Twilight Saga: New Moon.

One of the first things that came to mind as I watched this movie was “The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. Not unlike the women in Atwood’s dystopian tale young Bella is completely dependant on the men in her life. Unlike the women in “The Handmaid’s Tale,” however, Bella actually has a choice in the matter and she chooses to depend on men for everything from financial support to mechanical support. It is as if Bella cannot do anything on her own except pout and throw temper tantrums. That she is indifferent to the fact that one of Edwards siblings has tried on two different occasions to kill her illustrates just how willing she is to accept unacceptable behavior in the name of love. 

Of course this makes sense to Bella since she has no interests other than the lackluster Edward. Bella does not play sports,read, listen to music (unless Edward likes it), and is  involved in no extracurricular activities in or out of school. Let’s face it, if Bella actually does graduate high school before the evil redhead vampire gets her (one can only hope) she will not be voted most likely to succeed, smile, or do anything remotely interesting with her life except constantly beg Edward to take it. Yet, Edward, Jake, and the guys at school are hopelessly in love with her. Why? She is beyond boring. Honestly, I’d rather spend the afternoon with a dead squirrel than have to spend five minutes with Bella. The message here seems to be that if a woman has a cool enough boyfriend then there is no need for her to have a life (i.e. interests, opinions, dreams) of her own.

To perpetuate the notion of Bella’s co-dependent personality when Edward leaves Forks, Bella is so consumed with grief that she does not eat, sleep, or interact with other people for three months. Eventually Bella  tires of her perpetual pouting and decides to rejoin the land of the living. She does so (not surprisingly) on the arm of Jake since the girls at school are clearly tired of Bella’s melodramatic shenanigans. It is obvious that Bella  has no real interest in Jake, she just wants him to fix a motorcycle for her so she can, once again, try to kill herself. These suicide attempts, by the way, are enacted  so that Bella can see a ghostly form of Edward telling her to be careful. Really? The writers of this movie could not come up with a more misogynistic way of telling women worldwide that without the love of a man it would be better to end their lives (or get on the back of a motorcycle with a possible rapist)  than to move on ?

Apparently not.

And just so the audience does not think that Bella is the only woman in the movie willing to endure physical pain and the threat of death for the love of a man along comes Emily, the disfigured fiance of Sam, Jake’s mentor.  Jake tells Bella that Emily (aka “the wolfgirl”) was standing too close to Sam when he got angry and as a result Emily is scarred for life. Literally. But because Emily loves Sam she has learned to live with the trauma of having had half of her face ripped to shreds with no apparent emotional repercussions. In fact when we (the unfortunate audience) witness Emily and Sam  together they look as happy as June and Ward Cleaver on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Message to young women: As long as he’s sorry about the abuse it’s ok.

All in all I was annoyed and disappointed with New Moon and would recommend it to no-one because other than some beautiful scenery there is nothing remotely interesting, enlightening, humorous, or enjoyable about this movie.