![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
"Perfect Girls, Starving Daughter" by Courtney Martin. It is about eating disorders among women and girls of our generation (focused mostly on the 15-25 range). It is one of the best books about bulimia I have read, and it really makes me think. Here is an excerpt:
[T]hese perfect girls still feel we could always lose five more pounds. We get into good colleges but are angry if we don't get into every college we applied to... We win scholarships galore, science fairs and knowledge bowls, spelling bees and mock trail debates. We are the girls with anxiety disorders, filled appointment books, five-year plans.
We take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, witty, intellectually curious, always moving.
We are living contradictions. We are socially conscious, mutliculti, and anticorporate, but we still shop at Gap and Banana Republic....
We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac, and multivitamins. We do strip aerobics, hot yoga, go five more minutes than the limit on any exercise machine at the gym.
We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves, and forgiving to others. We never want to be as passive-agressive as our mothers, never want to marry men as uninspired as our fathers. We carry the old world of guilt- center of families, keeper of relationships, caretaker of friends - with the new world of control/ambition - rich, independent, powerful. We are the daughters of feminists who said "You can be anything" and we heard "You have to be everything."
We must get A's. We must make money. We must save the world. We must be thin. We must be unflappable. We must be beautiful. We are the anorectics, the bulimics, the overexercisers, the overeaters. We must be perfect. We must make it look effortless.
We grow hungrier and hungrier with no clue what we are hungry for. The holes inside of us grow bigger and bigger.
Someone posted this. Scary how true it is.
Other than those few corrections. Every SINGLE WORD. Is true. sleep deprivation. . . i thought i was the only one who was crazy enough to pride myself on that. i don't know how anyone thought of writing that down. and the filled appointment books. my planner looks like a novel puked on it.
I can't get myself to look for a job. I can't get myself to study for the MCAT. I can't get myself to a gym. I can't get myself to eat less. I can't get myself to write a personal statement. I can't get myself to get letters of recommendation. I can't get myself to do anything.
I walked to the gym today, then walked past it when I saw a line of protesters walk by. There were women with signs and a megaphone. One was holding an umbrella that said "Peace, not war". There were men in orange prison uniforms, with black execution masks over their heads, chained to each other, also marching with them. They were chanting anti-war things. They got to Center and Shattuck, and the men were unchained, and they kept yelling and chanting and protesting. All of a sudden, loud sirens started sounding, and police cars started arriving in twos and threes from all directions. One man, a black man in an orange prison uniform, started getting violent. By this time, there were at least ten police cars and officers were wielding billy clubs, and more sirens could be heard in the distance. A crowd had gathered, and I was standing on the further corner, but then decided to get closer, going over to the corner right across from where this was all happening. At first, I had been worried that a greasy haired, tall Paki, with eyes heavily lined in black, smoking a cigarette and in head-to-toe black, was a prime candidate for the police officers to practice billy clubbing on. I felt safer in a crowd. People were taking pictures and videos on their cell phones. The man who was getting violent was holding a huge peace sign decorated with pink flowers. Exactly what hippy culture and Berkeley had been about, once upon a time. This is what I had come to Berkeley for. But the police descended on him. It took two or three to get him, because he fought and struggled. They eventually handcuffed him and threw him against the car, and with much difficulty, forced him into the back seat. In the process, the pink-flowered peace sign fell and was trampled by the police. A new chant began. "No war, no police". The police eventually left, because they could do nothing about verbal protest. A few cars stayed behind, just in case, and the crowd dispersed, but the protest went on. I finally got to experience a small piece of what Berkeley used to be.
APRIL:
Week 1and 2:
Eat: water, tea, coffee, diet soda, energy drinks, crystal lite, sf jello, sf gum, sf popsicles, sf candy, broth, lettuce, sunflower seeds
Exercise: 30 min elliptical daily, 1 class pilates 2x/week, 1 class toning 2x/week
Week 3 and 4:
Eat: raw veggies, fruit, and lean protein
Exercise: 60 min elliptical daily, 1 class pilates 3x/week, 1 class toning 3x/week
Weigh In:
May 1
GOAL: 118 lbs.
I FUCKING HATE MYSELF> I AM A FAT FUCKING WHORE> I AM THE MOST VILE FILTH IN THE UNIVERSE I AM THE > > >> I CAN"T EVEN THINK OF HOWM UCH I HATE MYSELF I HATE I HATE I VOMIT I AM NAUSEATED
