Spoiled brats and eating disorders

I guess I have always bought the theory that girls with eating disorders are afflicted with something beyond their control. The scales fell from my eyes when I watched a lenghty documentary about the affliction last week. The program followed a group of girls in a treatment program for several months and it revealed a bunch of spoiled brats who took delight in breaking all the rules, forming evil cliques, laughing at the staff behind their backs and generally defying every effort to help them. What really threw me was the naivite of the well-meaning staff, who didn't seem to realize that these girls were having them on at every turn. There were tearful scenes in group therapy where girls cried and passed around the "support" baton, taking turns saying how badly they wanted to get better. Mostly these were big lies. Once the sessions ended, many of them laughed at the sincere efforts staff were making to help them.

Of course, it didn't help that the professional staff and custodians were all fat slobs! How could these girls relate to fatties -- regardless of how many degrees they had? And how could they relate to the head honcho, a fat male psychiatrist?! There is no way a girl who thinks being morbidly skeletal is the height of beauty and control can think a fat woman, who never passed a donut she didn't ravish, could help or even remotely understand the obsession. I began to ponder how different this "treatment" approach was from AA, for example, where all the staff are recovering alcoholics and buy none of the BS the patients serve up. In that scenario, they've been there, done. In this group home it was "us" -- the superior, perfect thin people -- versus "them" the inferior, fat losers. There is no way that will work. These girls needed their butts kicked by recovering eating disordered women, but instead they got hugs and break after break when they were caught throwing out food, smoking, lying and purging. The scenes of the girls finishing a meal and then going to their rooms to purge were sickening.

Here they were, being molly-coddled in a luxury resort setting paid for by either their long-suffering and weeping parents or by insurance coverage and none of them wanted to be there. When a few got kicked out, after repeated warnings and tearful "support" sessions, it seemed to them a badge of courage and supreme superiority -- "I was so thin-obsessed I escaped and you have to stay here because you aren't as clever as I." It was the tearful parents I felt sorry for, as they begged the staff to keep their daughter there. Cameras followed the girls who left. Two went out for a dinner of nachos and junk and then we watched them back in their homes head straight for the toilet to..........well, you know.

I have a little inkling about that mentality because I used to be rail thin and obsessed with avoiding food. I used to enjoy feeling superior when I walked into a room and was the thinest person there. I don't think I was anorexic and I certainly was not bulimic, but I did everything I could to stay thin. I was jerked out of this one day by my daughter who as a toddler stood beside me, holding my hand as I looked in the mirror and said, "You know Mummy, you're like those people who look in the mirror and think they're too fat, but they're really, really skinny." She must have been no more than five at the time and I realized that she was trying to support me. Then and there I decided to dump the obsession. That was about 25 years ago and the pounds have crept on, but I don't care. As long as I am healthy and exercise, I don't care about the weight. Now I am actually afraid of dieting, having known so many people who have shed a lot of weight and then put it all back on and then some. The body knows when you are trying to starve it and it won't have it.

Blood and Passion

Rented the movie 'Blood and Passion'. It covered the life of a famous Spanish bullfighter on the 1940's called "Manolete". It's a pretty good movie about the bullfighting culture and its heros and horrors. But try as Imight, I could not get my head around the barbarity of the ritual. The bulls are literally tortured to death and the crowd loves it. But I guess all cultures love to see death -- witness car racing, horse racing, rodeos, dog fighting, cock fighting, boxing, hockey, mixed martial arts....I could go on and on. We just love to see people and animals being tortured or killed.

Watching an episode of 'The Tudors' last evening right after the movie reminded me that we were torturing and killing people back then with reckless abandon, all in the name of a maniacal King Henry VIIIth. In blood sport today, I don't mind the people part because they choose to do it. But the innocent animals I can't handle. But please don't ever ask me to conjure up images of abatoirs! I will continue to insist on a total disconnect between the meat I eat and the manner in which it is served to me. I dabble in vegetarianism via many meals -- and even contemplate the lifestyle now and then -- but I always chicken out (excuse that hideous pun) because I just love meat.

Underneath the fragile and thin veneer of civilization by means of which we co-exist lie barbarism and cruelty. It does not take much to release them.

Confusing!

Went to a reception recently and began to chat with a young man I had met on a couple of occasions. As I addressed him by his name, his mother interrupted and said, "Oh no, now he's Molly, he's becoming a woman." And sure enough, he was growing his hair out and wore women's clothes and had makeup over his beard and wore jewellry. Weird. He is their only child and good for them to be supportive. I silently thanked God that none of my children were doing this because I know I could not handle it as well as that mother was. Unfortunately, the father was scowling, so not all perfect in that household.

Don't forget to watch 'Battle of the Blades' tonight, CBC 8 p.m. Speaking of tv, why is it that Canadian rip-offs of British shows just don't match up? Now they have a local version of 'Come Dine With Me' that tries to ape the British version, but it is not as good. It's on at the same time as the British one used to air, so I can't watch the real thing anymore. Just tacky and not funny.

The joys of cortisone

Went this afternoon for my second shot of cortisone in a hip. For five or six years I have been suffering mightily with hip pain. Assuming it was arthritis, I tried to ignore it . Who wants the hassle of a hip replacement, unless it's to get smaller ones installed! Finally I could live with the pain no longer. Off I went for an X-ray and low and behold, I have neither arthirtis not osteoporosis. I have bursitis. This is a very painful ailment, but at least it's semi-fixable. A month ago I went for a cortisone shot in the worst hip and miraculously it subsided. Today I had the other hip shot up and guess what, it's so much better. To think that I suffered for so long with something two shots fixed.

Wandering through the General Hospital today was so depressing. Sick people everywhere. The ones who really slew me were those outside the cancer clinic in wheelchairs -- smoking. Sad, sad, sad. The whole place is a village of confused people. No one knows where to go; when they get there they have the wrong card and have to go somewhere else in another wing to get a new one; they have the wrong date for their appointment; they can't speak English...bewilderment abounds. The doctors, nurses and other staff wink and nod to each other as they walk the halls -- the only people in-the-know in the entire place. The rest of us are aliens and pretty much a huge bother to them.

The biggest movie going there is to be found at the parking machines. You better pay your multi-million dollar parking ticket before you head back to the garage because there is no staff out there to take your money. And just try to figure out how to pay your ticket in those rube-goldberg machines! I don't care how many university degrees you have, it can't be done! Having figured it out, I had to coach a bunch of mystified victims through the process. And when I got to the checkout, I had to back up to let a couple of cars back out because...........they hadn't figured out the parking payment machines in advance and their tickets would not let them leave. It was like the twilight zone --no one can escape. Yes folks, the hospitals are definitely designed for the staff -- not for the great unwashed.

More high heels in the jungle

Watched a 1953 movie, 'Mogambo,' last night. There was Ava Gardner, prancing around the jungle on safari in high heels! And not just high heels, beautiful outfits and masses of jewellry. She was joined in the plot shortly by Grace Kelly, who arrived on a barge in high style dressed in silks and satins. Both began fighting for the affections of Mr. Testosterone, Clark Gable -- big game hunter and macho male. The scene of all of them at dinner in a luxuriously adorned tent, complete with candleabra and the finest china was beyond it. Both Ava and Grace were fabulously decked out in elaborate evening gowns and the men were in black tie. It was hilarious! The movie consisted of Gable alternately bullying and passionately kissing both ladies -- the latter decidely without permission. These were the days when women really "wanted it", but pretended they didn't.

I googled Ava and learned she had been 31 years old when the picture was made; Grace had been 24. To think that I have a daughter 31 was mind-boggling. Both these women seemed so worldly, wise and experienced. They had seen it all. When he wasn't ordering the women around and sexually attacking them, Clark was capturing and tortuing animals. It was so cruel, but they all thought this the height of amusement. Man, the world has changed. Women and animals aren't the prey they used to be -- or are they? Think Russell Williams and the average zoo and you realize we haven't moved at all.

Marvin Gaye and Chinatown

I am listening to Marvin Gaye, 'Heard it Through the Grapevine' --what a great tune. The rest of the CD will be as distracting. Just to report that a movie I watched last evening prompted me to visit Chinatown today. There was a Chinese woman in the film who wore silk jackets. Ladies, head right to your local Chinatown, if you want to find a great deal. Parked the car in a very seedy part of the district and went into a tacky, grubby store filled with....well, everything...china, lamps, junk, junk and more junk. But hanging in a jumble on a rack were about 25 beautiful silk jackets. They were ABSOLUTELY stunning. Two men came rushing up and I started trying them on. The changing room consisted of..........the two men holding my coat while I stood inside the front door looking into a hand-held mirror. Bottom line: I bought a hand-made, silk-on-silk, beautifully-lined and hand-embroidered evening jacket for $39. Beat that. And that's $39 Canadian. I felt almost guilty as I left with my gem.

Every city and town in Canada has a Chinatown. Think laterally. Treasures are to be found there and this Christmas I will be building my wardrobe around this jacket. Back to 'Let's Get it on' with Marvin.

Who are they kidding!!?

Just watching another train wreck of a reality show, 'Sister Wives'. This spoiled chump of a guy has three wives and is about to marry a fourth. The psychological drama of it all explains why we don't have polygamy in this country -- and not in most others. It simply doesn't work. All the wives are all miserable, while pretending to be so supportive of each other. The one in total control is the passive aggressive first wife, Meri (yeah, I know, her parents spelt her name wrong). As the depraved history of these marriages unfolds, it becomes clear that whenever the husband gets too involved with the latest wife, Queen Meri decides it's time for another. Guess what, the other wives don't like it and they say so. But Cody, the drooling, infantile husband, just loves it! For a while after each marriage, they all settle into the new arrangement. But when Meri feels control slipping away, she decides it's time to take another wife. So, she goes out and picks one she can control.....for a while. Number four won't be the last, count on it.

This episode features Cody's courtship of wife number four, Robyn. And they all get into the act! Helping out, babysitting her kids so they can go out on dates........he even takes his two eldest daughters along on one weekend sleepover so they can look after her kids while they...um...er... ahem........get it on. It is just so sick. The crowning touch is the wedding, when all the wives and kids get gussied up, go to the hairdresser, get their nails done, put on new outfits and off they go. And while controller Meri is dressing loverboy for his "nuptials" he starts coming on to her and they start necking! It can't be true. But it gets worse. Out to dinner to celebrate her 20th anniversary with chumly, Meri breaks down and tearfully asks our hero how he would feel if she took a lover or another husband or two, or three. Indignantly he admonishes her that it....."would be obscene and grotesque and that he can't even think about it." Well, there ya go!

This chump has produced 16 kids and takes responsibility for none. As he arrives for an overnighter with one of them, he greets her with, "Hi, how's it goin'?" Can you imagine your husband coming up to you and asking that, as if he were talking to a buddy in the locker room?! The sad part is watching the wives pretend this is a great arrangement, while they all blubber into the camera. They claim it is because they are fundamentalist Mormon, but not once does anyone mention that this is all done because God decrees it. Not once is a higher power mentioned. Not once is this exploitation explained through scripture. This is just a North American version of an islamic practice. Please help us.

The protocol of the fast lane

Last night I went to my first evening swim at the local pool. Only recognized two people from three years ago; neither had changed. This time there were two fast lanes: a fast fast lane and a slow fast lane. Should I chance it? Decided not to because there were a lot a young folks there booting it -- or should I say booting it and then resting for five minutes. Soon both "fast" lanes filled up to the saturation point, so I remained in the medium lane. But there is a protocol that most people ignore -- there was even one slow poke with a flutter board in the fast fast lane! Please! I am surprised no one grabbed it and clobbered her with it.

Yes, I have been very spoiled with my own pool at the condo. And don't even get me started on the changing room! What a horror. Trying to do the dance of the devil getting shoes on without feet touching the floor was a real treat! But I will hang in there 'cause I am sure there will be lots of blog material to be had from the experience.

Sitting here in the Museum office today, very slow in spite of the fact that Remembrance Day is approaching. Office politics abound here too. One woman has officially complained about my perfume causing anaphylactic(sp?) shock. She has threatened to resign unless I stop wearing my Oscar de la Renta cologne. Please! again. I have been wearing the same cologne for 40 years and have not had a complaint. And this from a woman who smokes and breezes in trailing tobacco smell all around her! So, I have agreed not to wear it when she is in. Obviously, there is more going on here than cologne. I asked her if she had a problem with men's cologne and aftershave. "No, just your perfume." And my personality and everything else about me, I am sure.