Thursday, September 4, 2008

CHUNKY MONKEY



Love, Love, Love this painting. Gorgeous! Rubenesque and beautiful. A little chunky too!


Tonight, I sort of had Judith Moore's Fat Girl on my heart. It's been haunting me for awhile...begging to be re-read perhaps. It is a truly engaging read. Judith says, "Everybody fat has her own fat story", but this one grabs hold and doesn't let go. You can hear Judith talking about Fat Girl at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4711853
Oh, and Chunky Monkey is my all-time Ben & Jerry's fav.

Some compelling excerpts from Fat Girl:


"Food is the enemy. Food is also the mother, the father, the warm-hearted lover, the house built of red brick."

"When I am really fat, as opposed to medium or mildly fat, I have trouble pulling on pantyhose, even pantyhose made for fat women. I sit on my bed to put on pantyhose. When I am really fat, I have to lean over my enormous stomach to get at my feet, so as to start pulling the flimsy stockings on. I huff and puff and sweat and get breathless. If I am not careful, I tear the stocking, or, if the pantyhose don't have enough give, then when I stand and pull the waistband up over my thighs and my stomach and buttocks, the pantyhose get long vertical runs and I have to take them off and get out a new package and start again. Sometimes I get the pantyhose pulled up, but I am too big for them and the waistband won't go farther than my crotch. I toss these and get out another pair. By this time sweat has run down from under my arms and from between my breasts. I am angry by this time too, and ashamed, and disgusted for being such a grotesque and grunting hog. I am red in the face, wet with sweat and slightly sick to my stomach."


"I sat at the edge of the couch, legs slightly apart. My elbows were on my knees; I was hunched and full of sorrow. I wore a loose cotton nightgown. My breasts hung down inside the gown and swayed. I spooned into my mouth the first chilly strawberry dollop. Cream melted on my tongue, which didn't take long, because the ice cream was soft. I spooned in another bite. I wanted to say to the ice cream, 'I love you.' I wanted to say, 'You are my mother.' I wanted to whimper, 'Mama, Mama, Mama.' I
wanted to weep."

1 comment:

drumwidow said...

Sara, Sara, Sara......I do love you so....
Love,
MOM