Today it’s my pleasure to introduce Erin Dionne debut author of Models Don’t Eat Chocolate Cookies–a book that deals with body issues front and center.
So, yeah. In 7th grade my “bosom” was more Great Plains
My teenage daughter is beautiful. Okay, yeah, I know, I’m her mother and all that blah, blah, blah. And you’re completely right. But that’s not my point.
Okay so I have to begin with a bit of a confession: I love bad television. Since I’m a bit ashamed of some of my TV watching habits, I tape certain shows and watch them while I exercise. In the basement. I’m always on the lookout for good Treadmill Television.
Last weekend I went to the Body Worlds exhibit. See here. It’s an amazing exploration of the human body, using actual corpses that have been preserved using a process of plastination. The bodies are posed as athletes–an archer pulling back a bow and arrow, dancers mid-lift, a runner soaring over a hurdle–and show the complex muscles, nerves, organs, and veins that make our bodies work.
One day, not nearly long enough ago, my brother called me to say that a friend of his had seen “his sister” on the bus. This girl had never met me or even seen a photograph, but she knew that I lived in Seattle, along with, you know, more than half-a-million other people. And she’d recognized our family resemblance on a crowded city bus.
Welcome to that time of year when you’re supposed to feel terrible about your appearance. The magazines at the grocery store checkout scream dozens of ways for you to lose those 5, 10, 15 holiday pounds (yeah, the same magazines that gave you the recipes for all those goodies you ate). You can’t turn on the TV without seeing advertising for various diets and exercise equipment. Perfectly muscled men and slender women fill your screen with their sweat-free pull-ups and stomach crunches. But there’s no way those people got those bodies from something that arrived on their doorsteps disassembled in a box. First they won the genetic lottery and then they worked, probably for hours and hours, with professional trainers.
My name is Sydney Salter and I have a big nose. I mean, I’ve written a book called My Big Nose And Other Natural Disasters, about a girl named Jory who thinks she has a big nose.