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don’t be a woman, a mother and have a job. Or really, don’t do all of that at the same time. It will make your family FAT.

According to genius douche Michael Pollan.

Let’s examine this.  Only, be warned, it might be a bit anti-climatic. I feel like since I’ve been thinking about this so much that I’m too worn out to really do it justice.

BUT what the fuck ever, it’ll still be the greatest thing you read all day, even if it sucks.

Michael Pollan.

Food Rules: An Eater's ManualIn case you’re unfamiliar, he’s a guy who likes to talk about food. And write about food. He wrote a little (literally) book called Food Rules.  And it. is. genius.

No, wait, scratch that. The book itself is not genius but Michael Pollan is genius because he wrote a book filled with shit you already know. Then he made a fortune – selling you shit you already know!

That my friends is genius, pure hula hoop style ingenuity.

Look, I like what he has to say about food. We are big farmer’s market people over here. I really try (especially with eggs, milk and chicken – I don’t eat red meat because it looks like blood on my plate and it tastes like tin) to eat organic, cage free, no antibiotics, no growth hormone, no genetic modifications, etc.

This is the sort of horrowshow chickens that I picture living at those chicken farms down in south OK.

That business of raising cows on the meat of other cows and tricking chickens into growing overnight or whatever, scares me. It scares me to think what hormones are doing to us and I really don’t want my boys to hit puberty at 5. Plus, I think eating should be for sustenance and family first and that vegetables can be tasty and blah blah you get it right?

So I’m down with Pollan in that sense.

Then a fellow librarian was all, ‘Did you read the New York Book Review.’ and I laughed because, as a rule, librarians hate that rag. It’s so pretentious and never tells us what we need to know. Then she was all, ‘Michael Pollan wrote an essay and in it he talks about eating as a family.’

Awesome. I do that! I eat with my family every ni….

what. the living hell?

This is what he says (though to be fair, he’s quoting some other not as genius political scientist but still by including it I’m pretty sure he agrees):

In a challenge to second-wave feminists who urged women to get out of the kitchen, Flammang suggests that by denigrating “foodwork” – everything involved in putting meals on the family table – we have unthinkingly wrecked one of the nurseries of democracy: the family meal….A scholar of the women’s movement, she suggests that “American women are having second thoughts” about having left the kitchen. However, the answer is not for them simply to return to it, but rather “for everyone – men, women and children – to go back to the kitchen, as in preindustrial days and for the workplace to lessen its time demands on people.”

Seeing as her final conclusion is that everyone should be in the kitchen and that the problem is the inflexible nature of the American work culture then why the hell do they start out by blaming working moms?

Dang babeh! You are getting so FAT. Guess I need to get back in that kitchen, no more riveting for me. Daddy? Oh no, he couldn't possibly pick up a spatula. Silly fat stupid baby.

Thing 1 – getting out of the kitchen – is a metaphor. It represents the right to choose.

Thing 2 – it’s not a challenge to second wave feminism to say, hey feed your family properly and together – it’s a challenge to everyone. Why even bring up feminism?

Thing 3 – I agree that the culture of work is harming us in ways that are becoming more and more apparent. We’ve streamlined our day (at least from a librarian standpoint) and yet we work like we did back in the 1950s. That’s crazy.

I would love a 6 hour work day with 2 hours left of the original 8 hour chunk to spend working out and developing community projects like a garden or a community farm that would provide good, fresh vegetables and meat. If everyone and every company participated in this wouldn’t it be cool?

Also, in my perfect city run by me, the buildings would be built to make musical noise every time the weather changed. Like if the wind blows they would have little metal strings that would play, or the top would be like a drum for when it rains.  Then, on sunny days they could reflect like an oil puddle.

Now that’s genius.

*note: if you would like a list of documentaries, books and websites geared toward making you never want to eat again, just let me know, I’ll be happy to oblige”.

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Wow, I’m truly surprised at the number of grown women who are obsessed with Teen Mom.  And, hey, I’m not knocking that because I too have become besties with Farrah and her Farrah hair.  I too want to both kill and sleep with Ryan.  I too long for bad ass Amber to actually graduate from highschool.  Freaking highschool people, that’s both sad and fascinating.

Warning: this post is not going to include balls – instead I’ve decided to go serious nuts on yo face.  If you don’t like it, well, I don’t know – I don’t want you to leave so maybe I’ll have a little sumin sumin for you at the end.  But, not balls, I’m sick of those.

I stayed up really late last night to catch the Dr. Drew – eeee! he calls people on twitter, tweeples! –  finale.  Dr. Drew, such an enigma.  On the one hand  – thoughtful therapist.  On the other hand –  fame whore.

Let me say up front that I fully support the right of women, even teenage women, to make informed decisions about their bodies, their pregnancies, their lives.   Whether that be abortion, adoption or “keeping it” which always sounds to me like some kind of unfortunate pinanta prize.  Like, ‘Oh suck.  A Bit-Oh-Honey, oh well, I’m keeping it.’  Anyway, I also fully support giving women the ‘informed’ part of that statement.  More education, more family involvement, more… I don’t know what.  It just seems to me that we are leaving our girls out to flail along in a world that is charmed and repulsed by them.  Is it a “girl” thing?  That, since they are women, they were more disposable in the first place.  I wonder if boys were able to conceive if we would see the kind of call to action that we see against school violence.  As a nation we seemed so concerned about keeping our young people from killing each other or off drugs (and all worthy things, yes but generally male dominated) and yet openly mock pregnant students.

Tangent – sorry.  Back on track.

So, MTV puts these girls on television and, generally, I think that’s a good thing.  Because I’m all for giving teens their voice though I imagine that much of their pain and joy has been exploited.  That’s the nature of reality TV.  I’m sure they prodded these girls into emotional moments that maybe wouldn’t have happened organically.  Not saying the emotions are real but just…made for tv you know?

What I find so compelling is how the girls handle themselves.  There’s this completely false notion that when a teenager has a baby they “grow up fast”.  But that’s bullshit.  You don’t biologically suddenly develop ten years just because you had a baby.  Culturally, these girls are caught in a paradigm.  Did I use that word correctly?  Who cares, you know what I mean, right?  Of course, you do.  Paradigm.  Shunned by their peers for suddenly having to ‘grow up’ and shunned by adults for being ‘stupid enough to get pregnant’ they exist lonely.  The one thing all three girls who kept their bit-oh-honeys had in common was their pretty intense isolation.   Which every new mother feels to some extent but god, I can’t imagine that combined with watching your future fall apart.

Then there’s the men.   I think this show highlighted more than ever society’s willingness to let young fathers walk away.  No one was yelling at Ryan to shape up yet plenty of ‘take care of your baby’ guilt was heaped on Maci.  WTF society?  QUIT PISSING ME OFF.

Finally, of course, there’s stebsiblings turned lovers (like a manga!) Catelynn and Tyler – who, according to every statistic I’ve ever seen, should not have chosen adoption, should not have stayed together, should not be able to talk about their choice and experience with the depth and maturity that they do.  They surprised us didn’t they?  I don’t know about you but I sobbed giant snot tears for them during the finale.  Yet, they are so secure in their choice and happy yet damn, sad. Sad sad sad. Happy, then more sad.

I want to laugh at these girls but I can’t.  Because they are mothers.  Like me.  And not like me.  I hope for the best for all of them and of course their babies.  This is a rambling make no sense post – sorry, I’ll have my shit together tomorrow.  maybe.

In closing, keep your chin up girls, it’s a fight, every day – even for those of us that do it “the right way”.  But every right way girl I know had at least one moment of ‘ohh please don’t let me be pregnant’ or even ‘I’m pregnant but I’m going to the clinic’.

For those of you heartless bitches who didn’t watch Teen Mom –

and some therapy – stat.

So, there I was, starting to do my weekly Eddie Furlong google when I came across this.  Basically, a New York Times fashion writer put up one picture of the GORGEOUS WANT TO BE HER WANT TO DECORATE MY WALLS WITH HER BODY Christina Hendricks and it was distorted.  They later replaced the photo with the original. Here they both are.

Now personally, I think both look pretty stunning.  The one on the left (your left, not the computer’s) is clearly a bit stretched.  The writer, Cathy Horyn (who neglects to include a picture), claims it was an error and since replaced it.  So whatever, scandal! and, lying bitch!

What really bothers me is the straight cattiness of the whole thing.  Look, I get that fashion is a part of the whole awards season. I love it.  It’s the only part I watch and I’ve totally been known to let a “wtf?  Is she wearing a dead animal snuggie?” fly.

Still, I resist commenting on the actresses actual bodies.  You want to know why?  Because they all rock.  I repeat, they all rock.  These women are hot.  From Meryl Streep, to Mo’Nique, to the bombshell that is Christina Hendricks.

The other thing that got me was addressing the size issue and then putting a picture up.  Really writer?  You couldn’t put up a picture of the other thousand women you thought looked good?  You had to pick the girl you were calling fat?  Nice.

So let’s just assume that in some place other than the New York Times office people actually thought that Christian Hendricks was too fat and don’t “put a big girl in a big dress” applied. I would still call “shenagins” on that.  Absolutely put big girls in big dresses.  Own it!  Big dresses are made to be sashayed and it’s soooo not about your size that pulls it off.  It’s about your attitude.

It’s about putting on your ruffles, your DD bra, your sweet ass red lipstick and your stomping boots and strutting down the red carpet/office corridor/home entryway and own. ning. it. Bam!  Like that.  Like this.

I don’t want to get into body image issues today.  Today I want you to bounce your boobs and blow a kiss.

I love you bitches.

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