From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V1 #120 Reply-To: eda-thoughts@smoe.org Sender: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk eda-thoughts-digest Monday, August 17 1998 Volume 01 : Number 120 Today's Subjects: ----------------- Re: ET: physical beauty [zerocool@sunlink.net (Niki)] ET: about me (poem) [moonsong@ix.netcom.com (Us)] ET: this whole beauty thing [moonsong@ix.netcom.com (Us)] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 17 Aug 1998 16:54:12 -0500 From: zerocool@sunlink.net (Niki) Subject: Re: ET: physical beauty I think that the first thing a female notices about a male is their looks. Then, after that, the way they act around people, then personality...And I think that no matter what if you don't have a personality that a female likes she is not going to want to be with you... Speaking from experience- the more men we meet the more we become inclined to meet someone who is different then they are...our tastes expand...Did everyone get that? I am just really...I don't know...not able to write today or something without it coming out all confusing :) *^*NIKI*^* ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Aug 1998 14:13:26 -0700 From: moonsong@ix.netcom.com (Us) Subject: ET: about me (poem) Hey angulz, Well here is a poem about me, a first draft, a bio. Love ya, Sam the ? angel as a four year old I ate Krispix watching Sesame Street in soft blonde pigtails OshKosh purple chord overalls in a room with a gray karpet and a worn brown couch When I was 4 or 4 I broke my arm & I still have the cast today my mom handed me broken pieces of gum on the way to the hospital I was crying, & so kept swallowing them When they took off the cast, they used a cold metal drill loud, it looked like a pizza cutter they almost cut my arm off I never used to blow-dry my hair I brushed it, parted it down the middle & put it back in two barrettes I hula-hooped in leggings & t-shirts my then dark-brown eyes peered seriously dancing out from under much blonde streaked hair I am very much as I was then I am still shyly sensitive though more open now People call me a social butterfly I make my friends laugh as my dad makes me laugh I can talk on and on & they listen, intently smiling caught up in the whirlwind & then I sink quietly into a calm space & say no more for awhile I now blow-dry, occasionally my eyes are more greenish, I guess it's called hazel now I had long curly hair but I cut it, now it's short and it can be straight it can be curly I am my mommy's baby girl I still sit on her lap & rock peacefully when I need her, she is here I can rest my head on her shoulder & her arms are a comfort she calls me bunny because as a baby I, hushed, loved the bunnies hidden in the grass I smile at her my "Charlie Brown" smile we are friends, mom & daughter My dad used to tell me stories I wonder why he doesn't anymore he was Daddy then maybe he thinks I don't need them now But I do We soared on our imaginations I'd be captivated on my magic carpet & seeing my rainbow polka-dotted horse I giggled when dad exaggerated his collegues & he sand me to sleep with "Venus in Blue Jeans" I always thought it was written about me I have trouble getting along with my brother but we are a silent kind of friends, he & I I was four when he was born what a year of changes my sis is my best friend eleven years my senior my best giggle-bud sister-time confidant though she can be a major old fogie I am a romantic girl, a being with passion loving dim lights and sugared strawberries But I am hurt too easily & I know I have the power to hurt as well But I am careful I loved & I trusted deeply & truly from my heart I was let down, shattered but bitterness subsided and gave way to hope & I believe again I gradually began to hate cereal I am overly enthusiastic about peanut-butter and I'm growing to like coffee Secretly, I hate lemons but I eat their sour fruit out of sweet rinds just for bravery my mom says I don't eat enough to keep a bird alive she told me to eat a human portion of salad I am compelled to love myself still in a society that would have me believe I'm not good enough Certainly though I have as much of or more of a soul than those models Granted, I have been weak & I have accepted some things to be but I am still myself I have always been a strong advocate in animal rights, in human rights, in earth-saving & in myself When I was seven, I donated my charity money to saving seals from plastic soda bottle chains I will protect me, & be all the stronger for it a prave beach tree more beautiful in a gale with a will like gravity I belive we reinforce what we think till we believe & then we say it & often sting the flowers so I'm growing careful in what I think I love to dance, & long to swing, not just because it is "in" though I am self-conscious to groove at parties But why not take the chance to learn something new whe it arises, and besides, having fun is finally cool I stretch, try to exercise, to keep my heart healthy and my body looking good, I admit I'm a go-getter I committed & now I can do the splits after months of hard work my friends wince, others grin proudly they understand the desire - -I'd always wanted to I conquered my fear of performing I often am afraid to try afraid of embarrassment, of failure but I have realized, I am talented at many things I put myself down so, if I'm lousy, I can say, see? And if I'm great, I'm happy & proud. I shouldn't, I'm working on not My mom says at the core, I have a peaceful deep spot, a mysterious well On the outside, people have said I'm gorgeous, pretty, beautiful I've been called hot, lovely - -I don't know precisely what I think I love the praise, but wonder at the emphasis Those who know me tell me who they see I am I often have to stop and look cause I don't always see myself I renew and refresh and take a breath in the wind and I am glad to know myself again They say they see innocence sincerity, sweetness Charm maybe Honesty, a lack of patience but I can be patient when I need to A kind heart, A loving soul it is my self When I was nine, my family and I were camping we went to the middle of nowhere there was a lovely canyon filled with ferns and walls dripping with water sunlight shining on the stream that we crossed on boards We then walked out on golden grasses and were charged by a protective mother elk It was then, that I saw my own mortality And realized the power of life I write like mad, often diaries, poems, fictional versions of myself, anything I'm a girl, I outpour feelings sometimes too much I love life, I say frequently but I grow outraged I scare myself sometimes my wrist holds a faded mark that I am ashamed of a red welt yesterday, previously a thin purple line from where I tightened a shoelace in anger that taught me a power I realized I will never do again Because I do not want to harm myself & I will change my thoughts I'm working at it because I could cause harm But I know I will not again I was wrong, & besides I don't deserve it I get frustrated, I try to keep my faith In life, in love, in joy I love beauty I'm enthralled by the mass of the ocean the great powerful feminine I love sun, rain, moon, Nature, all the good some of the bad I'm fascinated & terrified of tidal waves I've called my brother's mice rats, and I named one after 3 characters in "Scream" I delight in horror films but I shudder at shadows I stare in fear at dark windows & shiver huddled in bed I feel pity for the great women of the past, & present, who strived & failed Why failed? Because they lived not for themselves I idolize the strength that survived Joni & Jewel for their voices and their determination throughout their lives Marilyn for creating the female "divine" she tried, anyway Jane Austen for her talent and her bravery And many others I have many sides I'm outgoing, spunky Showy, trendy, flirtatious And I'm shy, quiet Polite, uncomfortable I love old people more than babies I love to relax & let a smile break forth but I love to keep going I can be confused angry, outraged I'm determined not to lose control but I do I'm homeschooled, I love it sometimes I don't I come from a good family but I'm sometimes depressed I believe in my spirit and other's as well I've read Babysitter's Club and Charlotte Bronte I'm vegetarian I used to argue stubbornly and passionately about issues now I accept difference, or I try to I like gumballs I live off of burritos I'm pro-choice though it took me awhile to decide it I'm anti-death-penalty don't ask me why I'm not religious For me it's too confining I take heart from all faiths I believe in purity I enjoy music, an outlet for the soul I have a lot of friends, many close, & few truly always here for me I always loved books where the author described the unique personalities and qualities of a character such as in The Effect Of Gamma Rays On Man-In-The-Moon Marigolds So I set out finding that for and in myself I discovered many truths I like salsa, but not always tomatoes Candles, & big skies sun-catchers, green eyes long skirts & bread naming a few I'm deeply interested in my ancestors I will research soon with my deep insightful newly-friendshipped thought-sharing cousin milking stories, discovering history through old brown photos & diaries, I hope the thrill & anticipation excites me I've never met a whole slew of my southern relatives to write this poem I was flooded with ideas I leapt out of the shower hastily brushed my dripping hair into a careless ponytail & wrote my life, part of it, a tiny glimpse, over caesar salad & this is merely a peek into who I am SM August 17 1998 moonsong@ix.netcom.com ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Aug 1998 11:26:36 -0700 From: moonsong@ix.netcom.com (Us) Subject: ET: this whole beauty thing Dear angulz, Well where is Doc when you need him? heh heh heh. I must say I am completely swamped in all the beauty mail and trying desperately to swim & catch up. It seems, though, that just about all has been said on the issue. Of course, being a teenage girl, I can add my own personal experiences that will probably add nothing to current state of everything, except more mail to flood your mailbox. Y'know, these ideas we have, I swear. When I was little, I wore frills and I loved pretty things. Then I wore t-shirts and jeans and my motto was, "why worry about weight or makeup? It's all fake and I am me". I looked at older girls and felt pity, but I never looked at my legs and thought "gross." How on earth did that change? Let me assure you it is of no fault of my parents. Perhaps part of it is biological. I am raised in a family where self-confidence and against-the-norm-society ideas are strongly encouraged. In fact, they are my entire life. My family believes that society encourages girls to be anorexically skinny, work for hours every day to squeeze one glance out of some guy at the mall (as if that should be their main purpose in life), and try to keep those grades up...though that's not first priority. It's tragic, pathetic, and disgusting. As Jewel says, "people living their lives for *you* on tv, they say they're better than you and you agree." Anyone ever thought of what this song is about? Sure it's about society overall, but I have my own theory, perhaps not an original one--and that is, it's about girls in particular, and, in the last verse, especially prostitutes. ("Some are walking, some are talking, some are stalking their kills. Got social security *but that doesn't pay your bills* There's addictions to feed and there are mouths to pay, so you bargain with the devil, say you're okay for today, say that you love them *take the money and run* Say it's been swell sweetheart but it was just one of those things those flings those strings you've got to cut, so get out on the streets girls and bust your butts.") Anyhow. Somehow, when I got to be around 12, my *beliefs* never changed, but I began to struggle with the way I view myself. Why is it that girls today so often live and thrive off of the compliments they recieve about their looks? Sure, when someone says "you are a deep writer" we are gratified, but so many girls get their nicotiene from "hey gorgeous, you look hot". Some of that, sure, is instinct, but not all of it. If it is biological that is because it has been bred into us after so many years of women primping and parading. Take Marilyn Monroe. She was the stereotypical blonde, she did exactly what the media wanted, and she became exactly what the men wanted. But what happened to Marilyn? It killed her. The men laughed behind her back and called her names, the women hated her. She became what we wanted, why is it then we were so cruel in return? But I'm getting off track here. So, suddenly, the weight on the scale became more important to me. Looks did. But still, I never got into the "makeup" end of things till recently--and not deeper still into it till very recently, say, a few months. Even then I was still borrowing my mother's makeup, as though to protest and say, "I'm not sold yet." But recently I bought some of my own, oh my, what have I done. My family has always told me I'm pretty, but of course, families do that. Last January when I had a 5-year reunion with some cousins, most of them older guy cousins (18-23), I was flooded with compliments and soon had gained the nickname "gorgeous." It feels great to be so commented, I once complained to my mother that looks is what they noticed and she pointed out the numerous other things they compliment me on. I then realized that she was right. Why is it then that I focused on the physical compliments more than the others? I had, for a long time, long hair, naturally curly, a nightmare, but, if done correctly, very nice looking. It was kind of a golden-brown, with blonde streaks. I have hazel eyes. I don't know what I am according to the culture's standards. I do know that usually I manage to live by my own standards, and love myself for being who I am. But sometimes I wonder. I'm not as busty as most girls I know, not as curvy as them either. The other day my friend called me "more straight up and down" but my ex used to tell me "you have a great body, just looking at you makes me happy" (whatever). I've been told I'm just curvy enough. I'm lucky to have fairly clear skin most of the time, though I have my share of problems. Whatever it means, what does it matter? It seems to matter a lot. ~~On Makeup~~ What a ridiculous notion. I admit, for special occasions, for fun with your friends, to add to an atmosphere, and most certainly for a performance, fine, then makeup is okay. But the every-day wear addiction is sad. It takes up to hours to put on, and sometimes no one notices or would have cared (frequently actually). Unless, as my mother says, you look like a clown, or you dress goth, or like those girls at Wal Mart (sorry heh just had to say that). I'm finding more and more through personal experience that, while it may be "fun" sometimes, makeup is just another thing to sell us. Sometimes it adds to a "starlight-girl" effect, but most of the time it is vain and fake, and it makes me feel all the more superficial. Yet the concept of making ourselves look "different" is so deeply embedded in us by now--wouldn't you hate to be 8 years old in the 90s? it's even worse--. ~~On Weight~~ As I said, I never used to worry about weight. I know I don't have a weight problem, I'm 5'4 and I weigh from 105-110 lbs. I must say that I hate a weight that will vary, because it is unstable and girls today already have enough insecurity about weight. I've never gone over 110, when people guess my weight they guess around 95, but when my guy friends say "I eat whatever and whenever I want and I never gain anything" it sure doesn't help. Exercise is a crutial part in the weight-gain-area. Sometimes I'm an avid exerciser, sometimes I don't exercise for weeks, even months. This isn't saying I sit on the couch. I clean, I go to friend's houses (where boundless energy is suddenly recovered and displayed), etc. But besides the obvious feelings that anyone would have of being edgy and needing to stretch my legs, there's usually The Scale haunting the back of my mind. Not that I seriously think I'll gain anything, but I am well aware that I could easily, if not for my very deep beliefs in loving myself AS I AM, slip into the thinking of a girl on her way to being anorexic. My mom and sister used to tease me and call me "anorexic girl", till I was half frightened out of my wits, scared to death that I was, and I'd tell myself all the time "I'll eat till I'm full." I was painfully aware of everything. Finally I cut out an "anorexia 411" column, posted it on the fridge, expressed my discontent and they took heart and quit the teasing. But somehow I was also addicted to the "you are so skinny" comments. I didn't want to be called anorexic, but if someone didn't notice regularly, then I worried. How awful is that?! At this point in my life I'm at an accepting stage, luckily. But I'm saying, I have been there, and I dare say that I will be again. I remember when I used to beg my pen-pal Adrienne not to go on a diet. She was constantly calling herself fat. She told me she wouldn't hurt herself, it was just a few pounds. I also remember when I understood her viewpoint. Isn't that a tragic state of affairs, that I reached a point where I could agree. I read Reviving Ophelia, and though I was very glad to see that I didn't fit in with most of the girls described in that book (mostly I fit with the one "healthy" girl), I realized I did identify with some aspects. Namely, the pull of the culture, and some other things I can't remember right now. But the thing that struck me the hardest was, the section on anorexia. Written by Mary Pipher, Ph.D., it is a great book, terrifyingly true. Ironically, I was ready to puke reading about the bulemic girls binging. I ached reading about the anorexics. And I swore never to be like that, never to let the culture draw me in. I'll close my "weight" comments with this. Here is what she says: in "Worshiping the Gods of Thinness", "starvation in the land of plenty"-- "Anorexia is a problem of Western civilization, a problem for the prosperous. It is, to quote Peter Rowen a question of "being thirsty in the rain." Anorexia is both the result of and a protest against the cultural rule that young women must be beautiful. In the beginning, a young woman strives to be thin and beautiful, but after a time, anorexia takes on a life of its own. By her behavior an anorexic girl tells the world" "Look, see how thin I am, even thinner than you wanted me to be. You can't make me eat more. I am in control of my fate, even if my fate is starving." Once entrenched, anorexia is among the most difficult disorders to treat. Of all the psychiatric illnesses, it has the highest fatality rate. "Its victims are often the brightest and best young women. In my experience, it is the good girls, the dutiful daughters and high achievers who are at the greatest risk for anorexia. Anorexia often begins in early adolescence with ordinary teenage dieting. But instead of stopping the diet, perfectionist young women continue. THey become progressively obsessed with weight and increasingly rigid in their thinking about food. They see themselves in a competition to be the thinnest girl around, the fairest of the fair. "The word "anorexia" implies an absence of hunger, but in fact anorexic girls are constantly hungry. They are obsessed with food as any starving people....They dream of feasts. ...."By the time the anorexia is full-blown, family members are terrified. They try everything to make their daughters eat...but they fail because the one thing in life that anorexic girls can control is their eating. No one can make them gain weight. Their thinness has become a source of pride, a badge of honor." From "Reviving Ophelia: saving the selves of adolescent girls" by Mary Pipher, Ph.D. I'll stop my lecture for now, it's as confusing probably as I myself am. Despite the horror of anorexia, anorexic girls still get more whistles, honks, stares, and compliments on their looks than ever before. Take heart--I certainly did. Love ya, Sam the ? angel I'll repost a poem I wrote about anorexia: the world can do nothing for it has created this terror like a burning fire jumping and licking the air with orange flames kindled by broken branches of hope so deeply rooted in history more deafening than a massive blue lake stilled by an underwater world that exists no more the world does not want to do anything they pleaded for this horror and they protest the results of their wish we created the monster that rages calmly standing straight and silent determined without a will skeletons walk and breathe but hardly live no need for starving countries we have saplings that volunteer as they cry in undecided protest 'look, we are beautiful you smile when we approach but do not know that we die. you tell us we are perfect but we are not. all we can think of is the meals we do not eat. all we can control is the fate of our lives.' but they can control nothing their lives are an ocean in turmoil and their ship is not guided by sanity the world has grown so sick as not to notice the deadness of those they praise and the world hardly blinks before moving on when the faded vanish they protest without calling they dicipline beyond the realm of living. they strive in a rigid perfect pattern and soon, they are taken over. left mute, accepting hollowed and shaped all their lives for their fate. and they cry. 'our bellies, never full will feel the wrath. and when we are gone, withered like flowers in a pounding season, the world will remember that we were here. our absence will be noticed though even now we fade in the shadows.' Title: "the anorexics" By: sm July 10 1998 And also: a silent wondering and a knowing ache pulling against society but running the same tracks skinny zine girls seem no harm with their sodas and cigarettes and the way that they can walk down a concious casual beach but when the eyes start to turn then the figure starts to yearn and pressure challenges moral as shapes seem too curved when to go with the crave of eating candy when she may or to stick with that deemed healthy and what also brings thin beauty no one sees her when she dies a wispy body down to lie a body too small to survive with weakened lungs and the innocent still wonder if the scale matters still bordering between studies and the zine girls that call sm july 1 1998 "zine girls" moonsong@ix.netcom.com ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V1 #120 **********************************