(well, every time I sit down at the computer, I just start watching Medium again. I'm trying to review the last episode and instead I just repeatedly watch the cute bits)
(and it's not like I'm reading for class or anything)
So, this afternoon, I went to the library and checked out a couple of books, the first one of which was so bad I actually have to write an entire post to rant about it. I pre-emptively ask you not to mock me for choosing a book with this title, but this is what I think of "The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things," by Carolyn Mackler:
It is twenty types of terrible. I've been meaning to read it for a while because I'm usually interested in books that focus on some type of eating disorder - preferably anorexia, but its opposite is pretty good too, and the summary I read on this one looked interesting. In actuality? SO TERRIBLE. Firstly, it was cliche as all get-out: fat girl belongs to family of thin/athletic/super-successful people, and feels like an outcast because of it. Said girl confides in one special teacher. There is an excessively gorgeous, popular, and skinny superbitch for a nemesis, who will inevitably turn out to be bulimic.
Then, the book adds a few layers of dreck with the following elements, in ascending order of terribleness:
-As part of her campaign to take charge of her life and be different, she gets her eyebrow pierced. And thinks this looks GOOD. (I realize this is petty, but I have a huge issue with piercings anywhere other than girls' earlobes. I think they make people look sleazy.)
-Her supposedly perfect older brother, whom she idolizes, is found guilty of date rape and kicked out of college because of it. Immense amounts of sympathy are heaped on the poor girl because he took advantage of her while she was drunk - after attending a "Virgins and Sluts" party, where the idea is for girls to wear as little clothing as possible for a reduced cover charge. No sympathy whatsoever is given to the brother, who was also drunk - so drunk that he barely even remembers sleeping with her, and can't remember her saying no. Nope, the irritating protagonist just keeps pounding home the fact that what he did was so unbelievably HORRIBLE and REPULSIVE and DISGUSTING that she can hardly even look at him. Meanwhile, I contemplate ways of strangling fictional characters, specifically female ones.
-Early in the book, she outlines and stubbornly clings to her rules that make up the "Fat Girl Code of Conduct" with respect to dating. Basically, it consists of being a cheap whore so boys will like you. Seriously! Apparently, you should let boys fool around with you - always in utter secrecy; no one is to know that you even know one another's names, because it would be so embarassing...for the guy - and never ever ever broach the idea of "dating" or being considered a "girlfriend." In fact, at one point she actually says that the idea is to let boys have the milk for free. OH MY GOD THIS IS THE STUPIDEST FIFTEEN YEAR OLD EVER.
This is the part that just drives me nuts, because how the hell does this idea even enter your head?? You don't think you're attractive? Fine: lose weight; problem solved. If you think you're too ugly to kiss but not too ugly to be seen up close and personal while naked...your thinking is backwards. If you don't think can lose weight, and also think you're so unattractive that it would repulse people to be seen with you in public, don't bother with relationships at all. Abstain from the business entirely until you feel like you're worth having geunine affection bestowed upon you. But where in the world would you come up with the idea to pursue nothing more than meaningless and frankly humiliating sex? It makes me want to start headdesking and never stop. I just - what - who - muh - JKASHDJKLASHDF. The stupidity! It burns! Buuuuurns!!
There's a review on Amazon that actually praises the character for having a good grasp of her sexuality and not being afraid to explore and/or enjoy it even though she's dissatisfied with the size of her body. That review made me vomit.
I am going to go back to reading "The Mysterious Benedict Society" now, which is a fantastic, brand-new book that I could very easily be fooled into believing was by Roald Dahl. Honestly, the whimsical styles are identical, to the point where I actually can't believe it's supposed to take place in New York, because all I can see in my head is Great Britain.