Monday, May 11, 2009


So, I saw this show on TV last night called "I Want to Save Your Life." I'm not linking it because I don't want the "thems" to know that I'm about to totally blast their idea.

Ok - the idea for the show is the "Diet Detective" ferrets out a person's bad habits, helps them overcome their fat-ness, and makes merry all over the place. The Diet Detective is a formerly fat person who is now thin, and he wants to "save your life" by making you thin, too. My curiosity was piqued; so, I watched. Today, I wanted to know more about said Diet Detective; so, I googled.

Two things:

1. Y'all, I was smacked in the face by Mr. Diet Detective's COMMERCIALISM. I didn't, for one second, believe that he really wanted to save my life. I did, however, believe that he wanted to
sell me a book. The mass capitalization of the fear of fat is really starting to bug me. When did we go from "Roman-esque" to just flabby and fat? Every single time I try to force myself into something thin, my Higher Power smacks me upside the head with a visualization of the
Venus of Willendorf - BECAUSE SHE LOOKS LIKE ME. Hips like you wouldn't believe? You betch'er ass I got 'em. Ask frog. So lately, I've been thinking that maybe it isn't my concept of thin vs. fat; maybe it is my concept of me vs. the "thems."

2. (And this is where the Melly-mentality really veers from what might be considered sane...but it is my thought process...) You want to save MY life? Why? Just because I'm a big girl? What if I'm an axe murderer? Do you still want to save my life? Are you basing your life-saving choices ONLY on the fat factor? If the only criteria is fat-ness, what do you do later on when you find out that the guy you're praising for losing one hundred pounds also has a history of beating his wife? Or is a pedophile? You don't know me from Adam, but you want to save my life? Really? Are you sure? What makes you so invested in my life that you want to save it from the great, evil fat? Furthermore, maybe I don't WANT you to be THAT invested in me?

So, IWTSYL didn't snare me. More than anything, it bugged me. Burr-under-my-skin type irritation. At first, I didn't know why I was so irritated; but slowly, the concepts began to dawn on me. I know that I'm struggling with the conflicting visions of myself, but I want
to be accepted - by myself first and foremost - no matter what. Media that downs me because of my size isn't helpful. So, nix it! (you bastard tv makers, you...)

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