Hey Ugly. Yeah, You.

Would you hang out with somebody who called you ugly? How about somebody who just implied it?

The other day I moped around and tried to figure out my downer mood. I realized that the problem was I felt fat. My feminist side cringes at the phrase, but I did. (You know, it's mildly embarrassing to call yourself a feminist, just like calling yourself as "liberal" is social suicide in some circles. Does that mean there's a backlash against the backlashers?)

"Seriously," my fat-feeling personality said, "I'll have to wear a bathing suit when I visit Marla in August. The last time she saw me I was maybe 15 pounds lighter. Granted, it was also about 8 years ago. But the fact remains that you, self, are fat."

My feminist-leaning personality answered, "Everybody's metabolism slows down as they get older. You're at a normal weight for your height, so drop it."

Then all my other personalities (I don't know how many total, they don't hold still long enough for me to count) started watching TV, right? Then they went, "Holy crap, you are fat, Michelle! Just look at these bony waifs! They must be the norm, and you're the grotesque aberration! Oh my god, you're a fat freak!"

So we all started wrestling for control of the remote. Some of us wanted to turn off the TV altogether. Others just tried to see if Jon Stewart was on yet, or what snarky nostalgic list show was on VHI, or what horrible thing a man did to a woman in Lifetime's TV movie. But then Tracy got ahold of the remote and flipped to one of her myriad crime shows. And all the detective chicks were skinny. That's why I like books better.

Anyway if you had a verbally abusive friend like this (or a more subtle one), would you really consider her a friend? I'm telling you the TV sends me subliminal messages like these: "Quit stuffing your pie hole, fatty. Why don't you look like Jennifer Aniston? Only thin people are worthwhile human beings. And also, buy a Ford."

But in keeping with my critical thinking theme (see Carl Sagan-loving entries), it would help me to become more media literate. You know, go behind the scenes and see that models are airbrushed, actresses are bulimic, Kirsten Dunst has droopy boobs and everybody can just bite me. I've had it with feeling inadequate. I want to vote those personalities off the island. (My loopy posts are often written late at night, go figure.)

Reality-Based Living

"If you try to introduce Craig to anything even remotely made up, he starts going off about 'evidence this' and 'proof that.'" Gina Hitchens, "Skeptic Pitied," The Onion 01/22/03

For a long time after losing my faith, I just fumed and seethed about organized religion. What really sucked is that after I lost faith, the public at large seemed to find it. Especially with the Bush Administration in power, it was almost trendy to wear your religion on your sleeve.

I'm still disgusted about my experience. It was a really painful disillusionment. But I'm also happier at this point in my life than ever before. How could that be? They taught me JOY came from prioritizing like this: Jesus, Others, Yourself. But not only was I depressed back then, I'm genuinely happy as an unbeliever. (At least until I die, and burn in eternal hell!)

If you've ever had your beliefs twisted, turned, and finally broken so you had to replace them, you'll know that totally warped feeling. But it's also liberating to start all over. I love the skeptic everyone pities in that Onion article:

"I honestly feel sorry for the guy. To live in this world not believing in a higher power, doubting that Christ died for our sins - that's such a sad, cynical way to live. I don't know how he gets through his day."

"Craig is a really great guy. It's just too bad he's chosen to cut himself off from the world of the paranormal, restricting himself to the limited universe of what can be seen and heard and verified through empirical evidence."

"I admit, science might be great for curing diseases, exploring space, cataloguing the natural phenomena of our world, saving endangered species, extending the human lifespan, and enriching the quality of that life. But at the end of the day, science has nothing to tell us about the human soul, and that's a critical thing Craig is missing. I would hate for his soul to be lost forever because of a stubborn doubt over the actual existence and nature of that soul."

"I realize that Craig seems very happy with his narrow little common sense-based worldview, but when you think about all the widely embraced beliefs that are excluded by that way of thinking, you have to feel kind of sad."

See why I love the Onion?

The Meaning of Nightmares

I've been blessed (or cursed) with the ability to remember my dreams pretty well. Tracy never remembers hers and I'm jealous. See, I started having nightmares, not just chased-by-monster types but worse. Sometimes they're anxiety dreams and those aren't so bad. Those are typical: you find yourself in high school again, but you can't remember your schedule or locker combination. You're late for class, you're lost in the halls, etc. Even my dad gets bad dreams that he's in college again and disoriented like that. Tracy says those show you have unresolved issues about school. I just think they're run-of-the-mill anxiety dreams, not indicating anything big. I told my friends even Rose in Rose is Rose gets those dreams. They were like, "Oh! Well, if a comic strip character gets them, then you're perfectly normal."

Anyway, the nightmares have to do with my depression from years ago. In these dreams I feel the same way exactly. I haven't had a depressive episode in years and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you, but these dreams are like time capsules. They're perfect reminders. Down to the last horrible detail. I'd say it feels like intense, self-directed anger. In my last nightmare I started hurting myself and when I woke up, I was scratching my forearm. Talk about a WTF moment. Maybe what triggered this was the movie I saw last night, where a lady tried to off herself. But it's not the first time I've had that type of dream. When I wake up in the morning, I'm really shaken and freaked out. It takes awhile to turn normal again and go about my day.

Tracy majored in psychology, and so did another reader of this site (ahem), so I wonder what their take would be. I think going to sleep is like opening a mailbox: usually there's just junk mail, but every now and then you get a huge bill or something and you panic.

What would Dorothy do? I should have a bracelet. She told me once how sorry she was I went through all that. She asked if I ever, you know, grieved over it. I was like, "No." Maybe the nightmares are telling me to finally deal with it. Now that I'm happy and stable, my unconscious mind thinks I'm ready. Stupid unconscious mind! Bring back the random dreams about flying over fields of tofu and carburators! (just kidding, that was from Dilbert)

Here's Tina: "Zzzz." Here's Me: "Sorry."

If you hear the song "Hey Pretty," I think you'll agree that Poe has the sexiest voice ever. Wow.

Anyway.

I was going to write how increasingly creeped out I am by news stories on Iraq, e.g. the President's "a priori plans to invade Iraq," the lame attempt to convince us Saddam had something to do with 9/11, the fact that even the 9/11 Commission practiced "spin" and made bizarre omissions, etc. But nobody wants to read that, right?

What if you think something sinister's going on behind the scenes, but nobody's interested? Or what if you have this deep foreboding, but you feel small and helpless? What if you're obsessed with finding out the truth about everything - from stories in mass forwarded emails to the evening news, religion, your own cherished beliefs, history, urban legends, human origins, and so on?

In college I had some very postmodern professors. One in particular really wigged me out. He had me so confused that by the time I drove home from class, I wasn't sure that I was actually sitting in a car. Or checking the side mirrors, stopping at lights and so on. I felt like my grip on reality was slipping. That experience could have been fun, in the same way drug highs are fun (so I'm told, heh). But it was more scary than anything else.

But the bottom line is postmodernism contradicts itself. "There is no such thing as truth" is itself a truth claim: "It's true that truth does not exist." Well, bullshit. Take that, professor.

To use Carl Sagan's phrase I am "obsessed with reality." If truth were a person we'd be, like, married. I bet truth would be pretty hot. Smokin' hot, even. Oh jeez, when I start writing like this it's time to sign off.

Letdowns

Borders' science section is lame! Last time I went to Borders I was overall disappointed, and it took me forever to find something worth buying. I went in looking for The Panda's Thumb by Stephen Gould, Lies We Live By by Carl Hausman and Astral Projection for Dummies by Shirley MacLaine (well, not so much the last one). So I should've found something, right? But it took ten years. In fact, I'm still there right now.

Speaking of disappointment, I went to Starbucks this morning and ordered the usual. That's a fat-free white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, because the fat-free milk and whipped cream cancel out each other, you see, making a nutritionally neutral drink just the way I like it. But do you know what the barista chick told me? They were out of white mocha! I know! It was like 8 in the morning! My head almost exploded. As a matter of fact, the sheer incongruity created enough force to tear a hole in the fabric of the space-time continuum, creating a vortex that everyone almost got sucked through! All because they didn't have my white chocolate mocha! (shudder) These are scary days my friend.

Patriotic Correctness and Taboo Questions

There seem to be certain taboos in society lately. If you break them, you're labeled unpatriotic or, worse, liberal. I think of it as the "Sshh! The troops might hear you!" attitude. When you ask hard questions about the war, even angry questions (an anger I think is justified), some people have a knee-jerk reaction to stop you that second. It's the old belief that dissent is unAmerican, when you come right down to it. The line of thinking goes, you're questioning the reasons behind the Iraq invasion and casting doubt on the troops' presence. So you're undermining the morale of our brave fighting men and women! How dare you?

This unspoken attitude reminds me of an argument I had once with a very religious friend. She said if I wanted to find the truth, there was no need to read books written by non-Christians. I asked, "Why?" and she got an edge to her voice, saying only Christians had true wisdom. That was the most circular reasoning ever. Why shouldn't you look at other perspectives? Because only Christians are right. Why? Because only they have true wisdom. Why? Because they're Christians. 'Nuff said.

One reason I'm getting more interested in science is that, unlike in politics or religion, science welcomes questions. Scientists try to find the answers to questions, instead of shaming you for asking them in the first place. I like people who go on honest, open searches for truth. Anything else sets off my bullshit detector, which is getting more and more fine-tuned over the years.

Most Memorable Sex Scenes

In this entry I'm playing to the crowd, because my sister Teen (the only confirmed Headless Barbie reader) likes bulleted lists. Also I think she'll find the topic more exciting than usual. So here it is, my list of the most memorable TV and movie sex scenes:

• Funniest Sex Scene: Network (1976).

Faye Dunaway is extremely chatty. Earlier in the movie she tells someone what a bad lover she is, and after this scene you believe it. She talks all the way to his place, she talks while they get undressed, she talks while on top of him, she finishes 0.002 seconds into it and keeps right on talking! About TV journalism! That's not even remotely hot! Joe thought her mouth could've been occupied in much better ways.

• Most Awkward Sex Scene for Viewer, i.e. Me: The Last Emperor (1987).

In 1987 I was about 11 and somehow wound up watching this with my parents. Yeah I know, tell me about it. So the Chinese emperor dude is kinky, right? So he's in bed with two or three giggling Chinese women. And I'm thinking, "Can you do that? But, but, there's more than one! Why aren't Mom and Dad making their disapproving comments? Why are they just sitting there watching? Shouldn't they cover my eyes or something? This is so weird!" I never forgot that intense awkwardness.

• Most Awkward Sex Scene for Characters: The L Word, "Last Dance" (2006)

Okay, this happens to be a good series on Showtime, and watching it does not make you gay. Well, the studies are inconclusive at least. It's a sort of Sex and the City but with all women. Which is, you know, not that radical a change...fine, yes it is. Anyway, in this episode everyone reminisces about Dana who has (spoiler alert) just died, and Jenny says, "We once fooled around." They cut to the most uncomfortable quasi-sex scene of all time. I mean it's full of fumbling, apologizing, accidental head butting, just everything you don't want to happen. It is physically painful to watch. Finally they realize they've put us through enough: Dana and Jenny decide to hell with it, they'll just dance instead. What a relief. It was the type of scene where you alternate between laughing and cringing.

• Grossest Sex Scene: Married To It (1991)

So you're making a movie, and the cast includes Cybill Shepherd, Robert Sean Leonard, Mary Stuart Masterson, Stockard Channing and Beau Bridges. These people make up various couples, right? Now, when you go to write a love scene, which couple would movie audiences most like to watch? Let me give you a hint: it's not Beau Bridges and Stockard Channing. No. No, no, no. Especially not since they're the hippie parents of the ensemble. Who wants to watch parents go at it? Eeew! Especially when their kids are knocking on the bedroom door! And they're like, "Just a minute" while banging away? Oh God, I'm retraumatizing myself!

• Most Disturbing Sex Scenes: Cape Fear (1991) and Absolute Power (1997).

These two tie for the most disturbing, only because I've never seen a John Waters movie. Any movie of his would be an instant winner in this category. That man is sick. Two words: dying chicken. That's all I have to say. Sick, sick man. Anywho, I thought maybe these two shouldn't be on the list because they kind of go from consenting sex to nonconsenting violence. In Cape Fear, Ileana Douglas goes home with Robert De Niro, thinking she'll have a good time. She finds out otherwise. He does a Jeckyll-and-Hyde routine right when they're literally in bed. She winds up in the hospital, which is still better off than the woman in Absolute Power, who ends up dead when the sex gets too rough, and she tries to defend herself.

Ugh, how did I start out writing fluff and wind up here? Quick, happy bunny thoughts!

PS. Teen, I know this entry is too long for your taste. But come on! One request at a time!