Whilst writing my last piece (Yes, I said whilst) about the baffling posture mistake many women make in their earnest pursuit of writing, (see previous piece: Women Who Write While Lying on Their Stomachs) I unexpectedly came across a second and perhaps even more disconcerting behavioral miscalculation that seems to have spread like a virus across the gender of humans with whom I often identify.
Considering the pressure that cultures across the world put on women to be perfectly groomed and rail thin, I do not know why I found it surprising. After all, a female is chastened, if not pummeled, about what she should and should not eat from her preteen years on. I went on my first diet when I was ten years old after I thought I heard a boy call me fat. I wasn’t even sure that he was talking about me. But on the chance that he might have been, I made my mother buy me a pocket sized book that listed the calorie count for every type of food. So upsetting did I find the totals it revealed that a photographic image of those pages remains seared into my brain to this very day: “Grapefruit: 52 calories. Hard-boiled egg: 100 calories. Apple: 90 calories. Chocolate chip cookie: 1,465,391calories.”
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Never again did I bite into a chocolate chip cookie without first drowning in an ocean of regret.
Which brings me to the frightening truth I uncovered during my research. It is this: Women have been so routinely scrutinized and chastised for so many centuries about their physical inadequacies that a genetic loss of knowledge about how to eat cake is now being passed down from generation to generation. It’s the evolutionary result of a life of negative reinforcement and deprivation. The original neuropathways that once functioned normally have apparently been erased.
Let’s survey the tragic evidence.
And so, on this the Fourth of July weekend, as we celebrate the birthday of our country, let us take a moment out of planning our celebratory barbecues and picnics, to appreciate what the women we know and love have done to make our lives better. As a way to salute their struggles, let us support them in their quest for our respect by simply not serving cake of any sort at our holiday gatherings. In fact, I would like to expand that suggestion and see it eliminated from all holiday menus for the foreseeable future. Fortunately, pie is the customary dessert for many holidays and to the best of my knowledge there is little or no search engine evidence that women are similarly handicapped in their attempts to deal with this more traditional celebratory dessert. So have a Happy Holiday, if such a thing is even possible.
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As I read this my life flashed back--teen me tossing back Dexetrim and diet coke, dreaming of my future "meal" of one Figurine bar; kid me splashing in ocean waves freeeeeee from hating my body, enjoying the moment.
You have a knack for making wrong moments accurately laughable.
I wish I knew more women who didn't have parallel experiences to mine. And then we have these bizarre media images you're showing.
As a kid, I wanted to work in Hollywood movies. A long the way, I read how little Judy Garland was used and abused (dance, sing, make us millions!) and told by the system (Warner or was it Louis B. Mayer?) that she was fat. They wanted her thin... they drugged her asleep and pepped her awake to get to the set and make movies for them.
So when I recently saw a photo of teen Judy Garland on the set of Wizard of Oz on her birthday, looking sad standing in front of a birthday cake for her, it crushed me.
Those damned cakes seem to represent some mockery of our femininity--Ha! Wouldn't you LOVE to eat this with your hands like a sugar-craving heathen? Go ahead! But we'll mock you, call you names behind your back, tell you you have no control.
Thank you so much.
As I read this my life flashed back--teen me tossing back Dexetrim and diet coke, dreaming of my future "meal" of one Figurine bar; kid me splashing in ocean waves freeeeeee from hating my body, enjoying the moment.
You have a knack for making wrong moments accurately laughable.
I wish I knew more women who didn't have parallel experiences to mine. And then we have these bizarre media images you're showing.
As a kid, I wanted to work in Hollywood movies. A long the way, I read how little Judy Garland was used and abused (dance, sing, make us millions!) and told by the system (Warner or was it Louis B. Mayer?) that she was fat. They wanted her thin... they drugged her asleep and pepped her awake to get to the set and make movies for them.
So when I recently saw a photo of teen Judy Garland on the set of Wizard of Oz on her birthday, looking sad standing in front of a birthday cake for her, it crushed me.
Those damned cakes seem to represent some mockery of our femininity--Ha! Wouldn't you LOVE to eat this with your hands like a sugar-craving heathen? Go ahead! But we'll mock you, call you names behind your back, tell you you have no control.
You're on to something, Merrill!