Being a Woman, Being a Writer (Subtitle: Eating for the Bird Flu)

No, this isn't a country song. It's actually two completely unrelated posts slapped together as one, which I tie up neatly at the end.

Being a Woman

I am so suddenly overwhelmed by the competing responsibilities of being a mother, being a full-time college teacher, and launching my writing career that I stopped by the grocery store on my way home from work and bought a box of Super Extra Strength and We Mean You Won't Feel Anything Midol and some trash magazines--Us, People, and Star. That's what passes for a vacation when you're a single mom. Anyhow, here I am preparing not to think for the first time in weeks, and what do I come across in the MailBag section of People? The most appalling evidence EVER of how completely difficult it is to feel good about yourself as a woman in this society. I quote:

During my captivity as an Iraqi POW, I lost 15 lbs. Since my return home, I've regained the 15 plus 10 more! I started working out, but the holiday season put me in a slump, and I didn't know how to get going again. Fortunately, your issue really inspired me to do so. Hopefully I'll be able to send you a picture of me 40 lbs. lighter very soon. -SPC Shoshana Johnson

Yes, you read it right. Private Johnson is not upset that she was an Iraqi POW. She is upset that she couldn't keep off that 15 pounds she lost while in the windowless holding cell, alone, quivering, and scared. Too bad Jenny Craig can't ignore the Geneva Conventions. (And no, the above isn't from The Onion. Check out the inside cover of the 1/30/06 People.)

Being a Writer

OK, I don't consider myself a writer, and that's the problem because my book is officially on sale. My question--when does one consider oneself a writer? I grew up reading the canon and worshipping "Literature" as written by dead white guys (refer to earlier post to see how they kick my ass). Anyhow, I'm having a hard time taking myself seriously. I kinda feel like a kid who is putting on a play for the grown ups. I'll get over it. Right? I could just go the route of Janet Evanovich and circumvent the entire issue by considering myself an entertainer.

Which brings me to the subtitle for the post: Eating for the Bird Flu. Here's what I figure: we're on track for a pandemic. It's not if, it's when, is what they tell us. And the guy who George W. Bush has appointed to head up the pandemic planning for the United States? Used to be a lawyer for Amtrak. Mmmm hmmm. So once the pandemic hits, and we've got no medicinal protection because a buffoon is in charge, who do you think has a better chance: the skinny chicks or the chicks who maybe eat a little bit past when they're full?

You got it--the husky inherit the earth.

So, I say we all start eating like we mean it, not worrying about whether or not people think our book sucks and are going to start stealing our office candy to recoup the $13.95 the "lost" on it, or if Herman Melville is always going to outsell us, no matter what we do, or even if we're going to look like the Nutrisystem "before" picture on the beach this summer. It's time we made having healthy bodies preferable to being a POW. Bon appetit.