Vanity Sizing and the American Psyche

( from: madisonbootcamps )

Sometime between 1999 and 2004, a miracle happened to me: 

I shrank.

In 1999, before I moved from the U.S.A. to Turkey,

I went to the doctor, and weighed in at around 148 pounds,

 5' 10" tall.

When I went to the mall to buy some pants for my move,

I bought a size 12.  I have wide hips.

The width of my hips was always a bit of an issue with me,

and as a younger woman I did stupid things to slenderize,

but then I decided that I had to accept that

my bone structure can't be changed.

And that was that: size 12 pants,

size 10 dress.

A comfortable, but slightly tall

Medium.

Out the door, I carried clothes made of real cotton

that I still own.

And then I moved away.

In Turkey, I did not shrink,

I remained the same size,

and my skin became paler.

But the first time I bought clothes back in the States,

about a year later,

I was amazed that I was buying

size 10 pants.

A few months later, in the USA, I was a comfortable

size 8, and by 2003 or so

I actually bought a size 6 pants in the USA.

I wish I could show them to you,

but they were really flimsy and feel apart.

America, you see, is the land of miracles:
as long as I was buying my clothes in the States,
I was shrinking.

I could ignore the scale, 

which hadn't budged,

nor had a shrunk in any other proportion.

It was all perception, after all.

I was shrinking.

The closet proclaimed it to me defiantly,
on every tag declaring my new size:

my ass was narrower,

my boobs more modest,  my waist

wasting away.

( from: listxsadist )

Well, if I wanted to be delusional,

I could believe that, but

I've never been one to favor

that frame of mind.

I prefer

the raw, cold truth,

even if it means acknowledging

things like my increasing varicosities.
In the end, I feel it makes life

a little easier.
At the time,

I suspected that there was a conspiracy afoot

to maintain America's delusion

that they weren't getting fatter,

and this morning as I woke up again

to my trusty radio, 

I heard a story that confirmed 

precisely what I had been thinking.

(photo and story at 

NPR )

Vanity sizing:

the latest, greatest

American tall tale,

designed to keep the clothes

moving off the racks.
This is what one of the women said
on the radio, in her lilting, lovely
Indian accent.
When Americans kept getting fatter,
and the sizes remained the same,
well,
the clothes stopped selling.
The clothing industry, then,
came up with this brilliant idea:
make a size 6 bigger, and
make a size 6 a size 00,
and lead the consumer to believe
they were still as svelte as a model,
even if they no longer fit
into normal-sized movie theatre seats.

I guess the statement that put me over the edge, though,
was this:
the interviewer asked the woman
with the lilting, lovely Indian accent
if this was ethical:
aren't we lying to the public?
And she replied:
It's not really a lie,
if the public wants to be lied to.

Ah, indeed, the logic of it sent my mind reeling,
because,
because
among other things, I thought:
is this the attitude that the rest of the world  has
about the average American?
That we are complacent, stupid, fat people
in denial about what we really are?

And then I thought:
yes, of course.  That is what the world thinks of us.
I've lived abroad;
I've traveled a lot;
I've seen the attitude towards Americans change,
and that change began when the American public
voted George W. Bush into office
a second time.

It's not really a lie,
if the public wants to be lied to.

( from nmnnewsandviews )


Just minutes before this story,
on NPR this morning,
I had listened to a speech from Mitt Romney,
given in Ohio.  Mitt Romney, declaring
that he will make more jobs, trim down the government,
and be a better international face for America ~ ~ ~

It's not really a lie,
if the public wants to be lied to.

It's the logic of the cheating lover
as he hands his spouse some flowers
and tells her that he loves her
before slipping off to see his concubine ~ ~ ~

It's not really a lie,
if the person wants to be lied to.

It's the logic of the boss,
who gives his employees a modest raise,
telling them that he would love to give them more,
but the firm is struggling so much,
and then buys himself a new private Leer jet ~ ~ ~

not really a lie. . . 
they wanted to be lied to. . . 

In the story about Mitt Romney they interviewed
a woman in rural Ohio,
who I'll bet is a size 6 or maybe even a 4,
and she said her only gripe with Mitt Romney is that
he isn't coming down harder on President Obama:

He should be saying it more like it is, and saying it loud,
she said,
Romney's been too polite;
he should not be so polite to Obama!

In other words, she would like to hear Mitt Romney screaming
that Barack Obama has done nothing for America,
that the woes of America are Obama's fault,
that Obama was born in Timbuktu,
that his mother wasn't a white woman from the mid-west,
. . . . .
She wants to hear it again and again,
and she wants to hear it screamed loud and long,
because she wants to be lied to,
because that will help her confirm her own beliefs
that a smart black man should not remain
in the highest office in the nation.

It's not really a lie
if you want to be lied to.

And if she and all the rest of working or
middle class G.O.P. America want to believe
that a wealthy millionaire businessman
really cares for her goodwill,
she can and she will,
as she sits in front of her 48" wide
flat screen TV,
watching the Simpsons,
which she feels comes closest to being like reality to her,
and eating burgers and chips,
in her size 6 jeans.


. . . not really a lie . . . 

(Oh, Romney assures us,
don't worry; we'll still have
Medicare . . . )

Vanity sizing, in the end,
sums up what is wrong with America.
And we hear about vanity sizing,
but still nothing is done about it.
Because we want to be lied to.
Because the truth might mean
that we have to do something about it.

( from runsleeprinserepeat )

I guess there's one good thing we can say about this:
as long as people are still lying,
the world will not end
anytime soon.

Or else that's what we want to believe.


Hamlet: In the secret parts of Fortune? O, most true! She is a strumpet. What's the news?
Rosencrantz: None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.
Hamlet: Then is doomsday near.

( Hamlet II:ii )

Antietum: Bloody Road

I woke up this morning to a story on NPR about

The Battle of Antietum, which occurred

September 17, 1862.

As I listened, my mind began to compose

some loose lines and contemplations:

(picture from NPR website; entire story at the link.)

~*~

(tablewarefare)

Antietum --

your innocent lands

still recall the

men whose blood you drank 

when they collided, driven by devotion to each

his own's belief in personal liberty:

Some, believing in freedom to all,

                               no matter their color

                                        or vessel for arriving

                                                     on America's shores.

Some, believing that the dark and enslaved

                                     were less than men,

                                                       and, as such,

                                                   deserved to remain so as they served

                                                  the economy of tobacco.

                                                          Oh,

Antietum --

two forces clashed in a 

Bloody Road, each force driven

by his own idea,

a whisper,

a thought.

Thousands lost

their lives; the idea

of equality ruled,

and history turned

towards liberation.

(from: old-picture.com )

So sad we no longer care

for history.   So sad

we no longer require

our youth to learn

to embody the lessons

of our heredity.  Instead,

we barely teach them

to get by; we teach to take a test,

then hurry home filled

with forgetfulness, anticipating

for the next episode of Jersey Shore,

or the next gossipy tweet.

( from: blogofshame )

History cannot be tweeted,

but history MUST be known,

as we stand today on the brink

of another ideological fissure,

right now embodied in

a battle over who should run

this land:

a Black Man

or

a Mormon;

a Son of Slaves and Idealistic Liberals,

or

a Son of Those Who Believe America is

The Promised Land.

But what promise is this?

Where guns are hidden and

(from National Park Service )

divisions are bitter,

the Bloody Road may be

just beyond the bend.

Our history can tell us how

to avoid it, and recent memory

of murdered diplomat,

a murder driven by 

insensitivity

to detail can stand 

as omen.

We have 

no time to lose;

the only answer is to restore

our public memory,

and with it, our ability to choose, 

and our integrity.

Some Thoughts on Waking: 13 February 2012

i.

Running Bodies:

( from Assembling Bodies )

On the radio today

in a story of Bahrain

the announcer described a man

trapped in his own doorway.

Sourceless gunshots held him there,

"and outside there was only

running bodies,"

the disembodied voice explained.

Running bodies - as if they were already dead,

running running running,

until the bullets relieved them

of their worry.

In frozen Hungary, old money is being burnt

to warm chilled children

and snow snow snow snow

pales deeper 

the pallor 

of Old Europe.

I have wondered of late

about

the popularity of zombies,

but now I know for sure

that we live in a time

of living death,

and deep in our being,

we know it.

Running bodies -- that's us --

but what are we running from?

We're running from other zombies

who think they can gain power

in the world of zombies

by killing the living dead.

Might I propose that we run to a state of not

running, not dying, but rather, living --

the world will not be a zombie world

if we see that each day it brings to us

new life.

( from brooklinrunclub )

part 2:

dice roll

( from kickstarter )

Each morning's awakening brings

 a toss of the dice

and as it rolls into place

on its face

is an aspect of me --

today, my perceptivity,

yesterday, my insecurities,

tomorrow, my confidences,

and the next day, my deepest talents --

whatever the face, it dominates my play

for the day,

and if I believe the tossing hand is not mine, I am blind

to the consequences I produce for myself.

( from: stopbeatingaroundthebush )

No bother.

This morning as I lay in wait

for my fate,

I recognized the wrist and the fist

of the gambler --

it was not yours, my friend,

nor was it an unseen shape --

indeed

it was me, and the dice

bore no mystery;

each face was

and is 

a known quantity 

to me.

With the proper gesture

it will fall in my favor.

So too with you.

There is no mystery;

chance is in your favor

if you know the roll

is yours.

( poohbearcoloringpages )

Toddlers, Tiaras, and 9/11

Well, I'll tell ya' what --

Even though I,

as a 437 year old woman,

was born during the Renaissance,

right now, I feel

like I was born in the Dark Ages.

Tonight,

while I was looking for the Public Television Channel,

I stumbled onto another channel instead --

TLC.

Now, I have to tell you --

I don't watch my television much.

People who watch TV a lot

know where their PBS Channel is,

especially if it's what they want to watch,

and they also know where TLC is,

and they probably know what their programming is like.

I know neither because, well,
I don't watch TV.  Instead I practice
this rather arcane past-time called reading
and I write a hell of a lot;

when I do watch TV, I always have to look

for the right channels,

and I sometimes end up watching something

I never intended to watch,

simply because it's so stunning -- sometimes stunningly awe-ful --

Tonight I was looking for a show 9/11 and faith & doubt on PBS, 

and instead, I came upon 

Toddlers and Tiaras.

Now I realize most of the television-watching world

knows about this show,

and I know

some of the members of the television-watching world

actually thin that beauty pageants are good

for four year olds.

But honestly,

dear Pageant Mom,

if you've come upon my blog,

and you if you think I'm going to applaud you,

you'd better find another blog to read

right now.
Because I'm going to make you kind of angry.

I cannot, under any circumstances

applaud this:

I can only be appalled by it.

When I started to watch it,
or several minutes, I thought it was a news program like 60 Minutes
covering some scandalous crime against children,
and then, when I started looking for more about the topic on YouTube,
I realized that I was watching an actual TV show about children's pageants,
that has been on for years.  It's a show with followers,
and some of the girls on the show
have become stars.

The more episodes of this I watched,

the more I decided the creators of this program are brilliant,
in a very sick way.  They are pulling a two-way scam
designed to manipulate the minds of a vast number of viewers with only one goal in mind:
to make money.

First, they've creating a show where parents who think

that it would be just grand

to have a child in a pageant,

can watch and affirm that what they want 

is just a fine family past-time:

while at the same time this is a show 

for folks to rip apart; 

it's a show for parents who need to convince themselves 

that even though they really have made mistakes as parents

they are not that bad;

after all, they would never do that:  

In some cases,

the actions of the parents are so outrageous,

that I can't help but wonder if they're acting from a script.

No one could do anything like this

if they really cared about their children --

Furthermore, the show has created a totally new subject for talk television ~ ~



~ ~ ~ and honestly, it doesn't take a great intellect,
it doesn't even take additional reading,
to agree that these parents are abusing their children.

It's a fabulous way, in the end, to entertain a large part
of the American population,
without asking them to think too hard.
And people obviously do watch it, every week.


And meanwhile,
some of us commemorate 9/11,
and we continue to wonder
how it could have happened to us,

It was easy -- the USA was looking the other way,
when it was attacked 10 years ago.

And it still is.

We need to see and remember;
we need to know the true reasons it happened,
and we truly do need to educate our vast population
that continues
to look the other way.

Watch the full episode. See more FRONTLINE.

The Logic of The Language of the Mind of Human-Kind, Part Three

(from the Church of Panyia tis Skripous near Orchomenos, Greece

photo by me )

1.

With regards to the NPR broadcast about symbolic thought (see link a couple entries below),

a friend said this to me:

"I thought just thinking is symbolic thought!"

Quite frankly, it is, if thinking involves taking something unsaid

and making it said.

Think about it this way:

our brain is just a murky cauldron of impulses

and frequencies,

and in that sense it is a bit like the universe itself.

Once we suffer the desire

to articulate some little part of that murk,

and once we produce a 

receptacle - any kind of receptacle -

to contain the meaning we intend to convey,

we are entering the realm of symbolic representation.

Thus,

1. a ring or a bead is a receptacle to symbolize our union

and promise to another person

2. a cross is a receptacle to represent a certain branch

of religious belief

3.  painting a wall blue is an attempt to symbolize -

and hopefully produce - calm.

4.  wearing a John Lennon t-shirt signifies one's alliance to what

he has come to represent.

5.  a sigh, too, can be significant, if uttered

in the presence of others, with the intent

that it be heard

6. words, like these words I write to you,

contain a vast number of impulses

that my sad poor brain 

feels a need to articulate

7. something like a stop sign is a complex

symbolic representation, as it combines a shape 

(that shape alone has come to signify Stop!);

a color, red, which suggests urgency;

and a word.

The most challenging form of symbolic representation is words, because

words assign physical sounds,

and arrange those sounds in a number of ways, to

signify specific concepts.  Those concepts

can be either 

concrete or abstract--

table what I write upon, is concrete--

love what I feel for you, is abstract

If you think in words, then thought is symbolic representation.

But it's a higher order of symbol than a bead.

By higher order, I mean, 

more evolved.

(babypicturesphotos)

2.

The question I think is fascinating,

and the question broached by that NPR piece,

is

at what point did the human animal begin

to assign various combinations

of sounds and intonations

to both concrete and abstract concepts?

Furthermore,

at what point and how

did we begin to represent those physical utterances

as symbols - ie: in writing?

I can imagine

as with some animals and human babies,

the first attempt to produce

sound with discrete meaning

is probably the isolated sound

"ma."

(For how many cultures does some form of "ma" mean mother?)

As has been said

by Freud, Lacan,

and countless other scholars,

the beginning of language

is desire.

But there's something 

more subtle and significant than that,

where language is concerned.

Yes,

DESIRE is the 

beginning

of everything,

period.  Desire

for another, 

for the act of coupling

for the act of transcending 

our isolated bodies, 

and the byproduct

often

whether planned or not

is another,

a new, single entity.

For the first year or so 

that baby human is no more than

the human animal.

She has human needs and desires

linked to survival and satisfying

her body's needs,

and those needs are continually fulfilled,

usually

by 

ma.

True, the baby does not start saying "ma" right away.

It screams,

as an animal screams.

At the beginning of life,

the baby human animal is convinced 

that he and ma are

one entity, and 

if ma's not there,

there's something wrong in 

babyland.

The baby begins to suspect pretty early

it might be alone,

and it screams.

It screams for the sake of survival,

though ironically

in much of the animal world,

a screaming abandoned baby

often expedites its own death.

Anyway --

The point at which the baby decides to just say

"ma",

indeed,

the point at which the baby 

decides to start imitating the sounds

made by its parents

coincides with the moment at which

the baby becomes resigned

to the idea of being alone,

of being an entity separate from its mom.

Lacan calls this the Mirror Stage,

the moment at which the baby looks in the mirror

and recognizes itself as a complete being,

and at that point the baby begins

its excursion into symbolic representation,

and socialization.

As Ferdinand de Saussure said,

the symbol represents anything that is not present;

it stands in the place of that which is

missing,

lost,

yet to be found.

When the mom is missing,

you say "mom."

When your cat is missing,

you post a sign on a telephone pole.

When you sense in your gut that

there's something greater than you,

but you haven't seen it,

you say "God."

The question becomes,

when we move this theory and equation 

into the history of humanity,

at what point did the human species

evolve from the screaming, impulsive animal 

it probably was

to creatures that developed a complex system of representing thought?

(tvrecappers)

I would say it came at about the same time someone ate an apple.

Very shortly after the moment of eating an apple,

the first signifying act produced by humans

recorded in written human history occurred:

it was a leaf on the genitals,

an attempt to hide the fact

that those two naughty kids  could suddenly see

that each of them were 

single,

alone,

and different

Up to that point, they thought they were 

one and the same,

with each other and with God.

If you really want to go far with this,

perhaps

the story of Adam and Eve is an allegory,

but a fairly realistic one, at that,

that tells us 

the story of evolution

including

the precise moment at which

the human animal

entered the realm of symbolic representation

(thereby, making them

social,

civilized,

god-less

human beings).

NPR does Semiotics

(recipes)

While I was eating my dinner tonight,

I heard this on the radio --

National Public Radio, to be exact:

Mentally Modern

I'm kind of sad that I can't make a more illustrated link to this story.

It discusses Evolution

(oh, one of my favorite topics)

and how symbolic language

is one of the key things

that distinguishes us from animals.

I don't agree with everything she says --

she's very beholden to Ferdinand de Saussure

and other standard semiotic theories,

and an entry I want to write this week

(hopefully today or tomorrow)

addresses some of Saussure's concepts

directly.

But I just think it's thrilling that 

they're talking about this stuff

on the radio.

I love the radio.