Friday, January 07, 2011

Weekly Quotes


In my reading, I find quotes.  I always think how nice it would be to share the quotes.  I often type them out and drop them into goodreads.  Now at the top of this blog, the quotes sort of randomly cycle through themselves and you really never know what is up there.  At least I don't.  Anyway, I thought it might be nice to share the quotes in a more formal manner, by copying them each week here as well.  Sometimes, I'll also add my own thoughts or comments.  Sometimes, I'll just leave the quotes alone.  Feel free to leave your own comments about the quotes.  

Fat-bashing in all its varied forms–criticism, exclusion, shaming, fat talk, self-deprecation, jokes, gossip, bullying–is one of the last acceptable forms of prejudice. From a very young age, before they can walk away or defend themselves, women are taught that they are how they look, not what they do or what they know. (1)— Robyn Silverman, Good Girls Don't Get Fat


I've commented before on how in a book or in a movie, there seems to be a tolerance for fat bashing with which I am not comfortable.  Albeit, the bashing usually takes the form of stereotyping (fat = lazy) and not outright abuse.  But subtle thinking does not negate the reality that when we generalize our thinking about any group of people, we are creating an emotionally unhealthy and dishonest dynamic and our children are especially vulnerable to these things.

Our society on a whole is trained to see young women. There are proportionally far more of them on magazine covers, on TV, and in films than int the actual population. As a result, we have a citizenry taught to see the young and ignore the not-so-young. It isn’t conscious; it’s Pavlovian. (13)
— Victoria Moran, Younger by the Day: 365 Ways to Rejuvenate Your Body and Revitalize Your Spirit


My mother told me that when she went to Italy for the first time she had a marvelous time, that the people there were marvelously friendly.  Her husband announced that she loved it there because the men flirted with her.  The two of them lovingly bickered about this, my mother denying that anyone had been flirting with her and he assuring her that the waiter was.

I side with my step-father on this one.  I know myself.  I know my mother.  The only time we ever notice someone is noticing us is if the noticer hits us with a two-by-four.

Still, I have a feeling that as I continue to age and begin looking older still, I will experience this fading into the background Moran describes.  I wonder how I will feel, how I will respond when that day comes.  I wonder if I will bother to blog about it or not.  We'll see.

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