Letters from Fat Camp

I think diets were designed by people who don't need to diet. Otherwise, why would they be so hard?

A few summers ago, I worked at a women's weight loss facility, and even though I actually had a woman say to me, "What happens at fat camp stays at fat camp" I'm going to go ahead and write about it anyway. I spent every spare second I had in the bookstore. I was enamored by the genre of self-help weight loss books. They had so much in common: similar clean, fresh cover designs, a picture of the thin author on the inside cover with a brief history of her (always HER) weight loss struggles, written at a forth grade reading level, geared 100% towards a female audience, though each book would occasionally and tritely reference men. The one thing none of the books had in common was the actual method of losing weight. More water? Less water? Only meat and cheese? Only raw foods? Only positive thoughts? Only eat when your sitting down, and never at night. But then, maybe it doesn't matter where or when you eat, but only eat when your hungry. They all explored blame; your mother making you think you could only be pretty if you were thin, your father forcing you to clean your plate, your competitive sibling, your stressful boss, your friends making you fat by forcing you to socialize with them. Damn your socializing friends! But its never your fault. You're just a fat product of a fat design.

I read almost every book in that store (not really that impressive. they had like ten books) and I didn't lose a pound. I'm not sure, but its possible that losing weight isn't as easy as reading about losing weight. I'm not sure who these books actually inspire, but they must inspire someone, because the only things getting published more often that weight loss books are Danielle Steel novels. Even if they do inspire, I don't think they're designed to work. If there was a book that fat women could read, and it made them get up and lose weight, they'd stop reading. And the market would crumble. The trick is to inspire them just enough to feel positive, but not enough to take action. Like a movie about global warming.

Harry Caray

Until yesterday, I thought Harry Caray, the baseball announcer, commited suicide. And I thought it was a really weird thing to keep referencing him. Well, wouldn't you know it: I'm ignorant.

A Girl of Great Expectations

When I was in highschool I took a course called 'Nutrition'. The point of the course was to teach highschool students how to cook. In retrospect, the only thing I remember learning was how to use a microwave, and we watched a short dramatic video about bulimia. I can see they had high hopes for me.

Dear Justin Bieber,

This has nothing to do with how I feel about you, or your music, but.. Aren't you a little young for a comb-over?

The way we were

This post is brought to you by: People who complain that grocery store music is too brash, people I work with, and news articles illustrating the poorly-researched decline of the American Family. Much like my hate for the overused phrase 'in these economic times', people who use phrases like 'The good old days' or get all glossy-eyed over 'the way things used to be" erk the hell out of me. I've been paying close attention to these statements, and I've discovered some interesting correlations.

First of all, these statements are never made by anyone except old people, unless irony is implied. Secondly, these statements serve a duel purpose for these good-old-day-sayers: They are allowed to be both negative and condescending at the same time: Two birds, one overly simplistic and nostalgic stone.

They complain that music 'just isn't the same' as it used to be. Which is true to an extent, but the logic of the argument is flawed: 'New music isn't music, it's just noise.' --What music isn't noise? Where are you listening to this olde-tyme silent music?

A few weeks ago my co-workers were complaining that there was no where to get a good loaf of bread in town. One of the older women stated that the old bakery never should have closed. 'Everyone went there.' That struck a nerve with me, because my family owned that bakery, and it closed because no one went there. Maybe your neighborhood bakery that you look back on with such nostalgia would still been there if you hadn't decided Wal*mart's bread was 'just as good'. In other words: you ruined your own good old days, you have no one to blame but yourself. Its the same reason you can't find clothes at Wal*Mart that fit like they clothes you used to get at the old department store downtown (more on that later). Which reminds me of another common thread of all this, never disagree. They're wrong, you know it, but they're old, isn't have punishment enough? Just let them think they're right.

Back to clothes. They're not made like they used to be. Well, neither are you, hypothetical old person. Thirty years ago, you could walk into any old store and put on any old thing. Well, you gained thirty pounds, and now you're the old thing. But sure, blame China. Its the same reason make-up isn't made the way it used to be. You're thirty years older, make-up hasn't changed, you just need a hell of a lot more of it. And your hair isn't brassy and fragile because you shampoo is watered down, its because you hair is just brassy and fragile. That's it. Your dollar store Suave coconut conditioner can't compete with that.

But its a dry heat...

Have you ever entered a conversation, and the topic immediately, and suspiciously, changes? Not like the, 'shush, here she comes!' sort of change, but like today, when I walked over and the conversation switched to "Don't you hate when this humidity makes your hair all frizzy and poofy?" Which is how I found out my hair was all frizzy and poofy today.

I was already ready to run and find a hat, but of course it wasn't enough to just point out my poodle-do, what made it worse was one of my other co-workers tried to hypothetically defend frizzy hair. "I think it looks natural." ...I was now beyond find-a-hat embarrassed, by that point I was ready to go find a rock to hide under.

When I was younger, I had this image of myself outgrowing that awkward stage I was in. No. More than that. Everyone-- EVERYONE reassured me I would outgrow that awkward stage I was in. Turns out, I AM that awkward stage. I can only hope that someday I'll go through a stage, however brief, where I'm cool, or smooth. Or at least not hide-under-a-rock awkward. But I doubt it.

Quit blaming the economy, stupid.

I'm totally and completely done with people blaming the economy. Its like that pregnant person who blames everything on the fact that they're pregnant. They're late for work because their pregnant, they're hungry because their pregnant, they're moody because their pregnant. Well, I'm starting to suspect pregnancy is just an excuse to be fat, lazy, and mean. Similarly, the economy can be blamed for just about anything. Certain things are justified (much like pregnancy can cause rudeness and fatness), but people are taking advantage of a bad situation. Cut it out.

Questionable Taste

I will always look a gift horse in the mouth.

I found a consignment shop in nearby New Hampshire that pays you up front for the clothes you drop off. This was a big deal for me for two reasons, one: I have a lot of clothes that I don't wear, And two: Its my money, and I need it now.

So, I dropped the clothes off at this store, which looked like a pretty nice place and the owner called me like an hour later to say she'd looked through the clothes, and taken a few things, and she wanted to offer me 7 dollars for what she took. Which doesn't sound like a lot, but I'm pretty desperate. And suddenly I understand how pawn shops work. But anyway, when I picked up the clothes, the box looked exactly as full as when I dropped it off. So far, the only thing I can recognize as missing is a blue tie-dyed iridescent tunic that was given to me by a relative who was apparently under the impression that I am a middle-age drag queen. But none of the things I was sure she'd be interested in-- the brand new shoes, sundresses, Ann Taylor shirts-- they were all still there. Even with all the skills Cosmo Magazine has given me, is it possible that I have bad taste? Maybe I should have kept that drag queen tunic, maybe that's the direction fashion is heading. ...But probably not.

Trend Alert!

I apparently watch television that is targeting an audience two generations older than myself. All of the commercials are geared toward improving my mobility, buying life insurance without having to have a physical exam, reverse mortgages, and managing my sore bones, loose dentures, and forever ailing health. After watching hours of these commercials, I've collected a few marketing trends that I will use to make the elderly bend to my will-- which will be a real task, seeing as they don't bend very well. Because I plan to use my new communication skills to pacify old, grouchy patients, I'm going to try to write off my cable bill as a business expense.




Old people LOVE American flags, its a proven fact. One of the easiest ways to get an old person's attention is to put slap an American flag on your logo. It reminds them where they are: America.

Nobody likes to be frustrated, but no one hates being frustrated more than old people do. Some of the industries best reenactors have jobs on commercials illustrating old people's biggest fears: a seemingly able-bodied woman struggles to open a pickle jar; you're at your daughter's wedding and your dentures just won't stay put. Your grandchildren are picking on you about your inability to use a cell phone. Your tiny arthritic hands can't zip your tiny zippers. And worst of all-- you can't hear the television. How are you going to know what to be insecure about if you can't hear the tv?!

In conclusion, to motivate the Greatest Generation, you only need two tools: Flags and Fear. Just make sure you speak in a clear, loud voice.

Dear God,

Why does my car suddenly smell like cat pee? Why can't I have nice things?

Ebay is Hard

So, Yahoo Finance convinced me that the key to making a little extra money on the fly is to sell my valuables on EBay. I didn't look into whether or not that article was sponsored by EBay, but I decided it was a good idea to jump right in anyway.

I figured I'd start with a dress that cost me like 150 bucks, and I never wear it. That's like, the scenario of every commercial EBay has, so I thought it was perfect. If I get forty dollars for this thing, I'll be stoked. Now, going into this, I considered myself mildly prepared. I've done the craigslist thing, I figure this is just a giant craigslist. A craigslist where you can't solicit sex from strangers. At least I don't think you can. Maybe you can. Let's leave that for another time.

The listing portion of EBay's website is a nightmare. It's like they make it cryptic on purpose, I felt like I was trying to learn HTML. Every line has a subtext. And next to every bit of HTML-ish subtext is a small bracketed price, and I can't figure out if any of it is actually necessary. I mean, I want my stuff to sell. And then after you fill out all the categories, you have to write a description of the item, but you're not left with a whole hell of a lot of write about. Which confused me more, because I had already described the important stuff in the set-up portion, and now I'm being asked to write all that stuff over again? So, I'm left trying to write something cute, or pully with some cool (read: Lame) catch. How is EBay so popular? It took me over a half hour to list one stupid dress. For all that trouble I could have been, I don't know-- working.

Verdict? I'm not cut out for EBay. I think it would be wise for me to explore low-tech venues. Like yard sales, or bake sales.