The Skinny on Fat

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Poetry by LA Crompton

Saturday, June 16th, 2007
Filed under: ThemesThe Skinny on Fat

Poetry by LA Crompton

 

Diseased Culture 

Looking back 
on all the encouragement 
and respect 
and compliments 
I received from others 
when I was 
killing myself 
through starvation 
It is clear 
that I was not 
the only 
sick 
one

 

Beauty Contest

I look around 
in the real world 
            not the alternative reality 
            of the impossibly thin and airbrushed 
            Don’t try this at home
But at the women in my life who are 
so lovely and so lively 
            and sometimes so Loud 
All different colors 
sizes 
ages 
and abilities 
They help me appreciate 
my own unique gifts 
They show me that 
putting down masks 
makes me strong 
They laughingly tell me that 
making bonehead mistakes 
is just a part of living 
  
They are remarkable 
posing as ordinary 
instead of the other 
way around 
And in them 
I see 
the true 
face of beauty

Liberty
The night my baby girl is born
I weep alone in my hospital bed
grateful for the precious gift
of her sweet perfect body
how I love that she
cries out her hunger
wails for mama’s milk
not ashamed of her need
fully trusting her appetite
not even considering not trusting it
I am so acutely aware that
I was once that precious myself
I mourn long and deep
I cry for the miracle
of my body
which
despite all my abuse
has been redeemed
forming this new life
that I do not deserve
and that I love so much

And I see so clearly
through the eyes She has given me
How important it is
to be Brave and stay Free

 

Freud’s a Dick

I have always thought
that the theory
of penis envy
is total bullshit
But then
if you removed fat
from all the areas
women are constantly
complaining about

tummies
hips
thighs
breasts

we would be left
with the bodies
of men

 

Since gaining victory over her 10-year battle with an eating disorder, LA Crompton has been working to help others achieve freedom from weight obsession. As a teenager, she loved fashion magazines and began dieting in an effort to mimic the emaciated images she viewed as glamorous. LA became anorexic, shrunk down to a skeletal form and began modeling herself. As she turned to bulimia to maintain her unnaturally low weight, her health became seriously compromised and her life spiraled out of control. She left the modeling world in pursuit of work that did not require self-starvation and became committed to getting well.

After graduating first in her class from St. John’s University with a BA in English and Journalism, she wrote for numerous national publications. One article, written for Allure, focused on the practices she witnessed while selling cosmetics at an upscale department store. The cutting exposé she delivered was watered-down by editors and published with disclaimers nullifying her experience. It was clear to LA that the magazine was careful to avoid offending its cosmetics advertisers. She began to question the underlying motive of the glossies.

LA has shared her testimony of recovery in High Schools and Youth Groups in the New York area and beyond. After promoting body acceptance for nearly five years, her efforts were redoubled when she was blessed with a precious baby girl. She could not stand the idea that her daughter might one day look down at her perfect little body and hate it for having curves. She writes articles and speaks to mothers encouraging them to give up dieting and warning them to stop criticizing their figures in front of their children.

LA has written a book for teenage girls sharing her story and shedding light on the true ugliness of eating disorders. The book, DREAMER GIRL, consists of a series of free verse poems that explore the emotional side of weight- and food-obsession. She also creates activist artwork to help bring an end to the fabricated lie that women must be thin in order to be beautiful. Her heart remains burdened for those caught in the unyielding cycle of body hatred, but she knows that freedom is possible.

Meet LA at http://www.dreamer-girl.com.

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Green Onions, Yellow Onions, Self-Esteem and Murder, by Lynne Murray

Saturday, June 16th, 2007

Filed under: Regular Contributors, Lynne Murray, ThemesThe Skinny on Fat

Green Onions, Yellow Onions, Self-Esteem and Murder

by Lynne Murray

My new motto is Self-Esteem Through Murder, but I should explain that I’m a mystery writer, so the killing is theoretical. In fact, I’m the kind of wimp who keeps a glass jar and cardboard around to rescue bugs that wander into my bathtub.

I do write murder mysteries. (They don’t always get published, but that’s a whole different rant – don’t get me started.) My first mystery, Termination Interview, published in 1988, had a heroine who was, like most fictional female sleuths, very athletic. I modeled her appearance after a Wonder Woman type Aikido practitioner acquaintance (except for the nose ring). I figured a mystery heroine would have to be very muscular in order to fight off bad guys.

There was a fat character in that book and I had a hard time describing her. I spent literally hours on one sentence and never quite said what I wanted to say. What I ended up with was this:

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Anorexic-Bulimic Lies, by Mara McWilliams

Wednesday, September 13th, 2006
Filed under: Regular ContributorsMara McWilliamsThemes, The Skinny on FatThe UpDown Report

Anorexic-Bulimic Lies

By Mara McWilliams

Sick. Nauseous.
Full of contempt.
Hating the living.
Fantasizing of death.
STOMACH
twisting, turning, jumping, churning.
DIAPHRAGM
pushing up the fuel I fed my
body so I may continue to live.
40 days and 40 nights.
What’s the big deal with that Mr. Big Man Christ?
Wincing. Disgusted.
Praying it away.
Looking in the mirror and seeing my age.
Down. Down.
Pushing this necessary evil down.
Fighting my mind.
Trying to find that happy place inside.
Focusing on the here and now.
Allowing my system to digest this fuel.
The hurt. The pain. The disgust.
Not worth wasting away over.
Power taken, passively and forcibly.
Given away, gladly and reluctantly.
Getting thinner and thinner yet every day.
Too thin…
NEVER thought I’d say that.
Bones popping out everywhere,
even in my back!
Trying to deceive myself that this is
all about looks.
You liars.
You users!
You pain inducers!
No more – enough!
Slow suicide.
Painful starvation.
Heart palpitations.
Chest pains.
Exhausted.
Barely enough strength to face another day.
Sick. Nauseated.
Ready to toss…
Feeling so alone.
Drifting…I’m lost.
Dissociation – something self-taught.
Pain.
Here. There. Everywhere.
Parents.
Partners.
Ex-lovers.
Old friends.
Burnt down home
and a cute, but dead kitten.
All living in my whacked out head.
Try to heal, forgive, and move on.
To love. To give.
To teach what I’ve learned,
as I am spiritually
obligated.
My heart broken,
again and again.
Stomped on. Stepped on. Tossed aside.
Feeling like a rag doll
without the ability to cry.
Torn, then mended.
Stitched, as if by hand.
Only to have the same thing
happen
over and over again.
Prayers, spells, spiritual cleansings,
yoga, chakra meditation.
Yet here I am,
an old worn rag doll
with zigzag stitches,
fighting down the bile
that challenges my resolve.
Fighting so hard to do what’s right,
not for THEM, but for my own well-being.
Standing up for what’s healthy for me.
All the while,
just wanting love.
Wanting the KNOWING
that there’s someone
in whom I could place my trust.
Bipolar waves,
Borderline urges,
Anorexic denial.
Yearning for alcohol.
Intensely desiring to make pretty little
slices on my arm.
But still,
just WRITING it out.
Praying by pen,
the tool the Universe blessed my fragile hands with.
I write for me to keep my mind in line.
But all the while,
hoping
ONE,
just one person can identify.
Maybe I can help one more get by.
The nausea is passing,
feeling a bit better.
No longer Alice chasing the Mad Hatter.
Tell me,
does any of this make sense to you?

©2002

If art is communication, Mara McWilliams is screaming. A California-raised, self-taught “outsider artist,” Mara was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at 19 years of age. For most of her life she fought the demons associated with mental illness, until she decided to use the illness to her benefit. 

The birth of Mara’s art came from despair and led her into recovery. For her, art and recovery are inseparable. Mara started painting daily and has found art to be the truest form of self-expression. She chooses to not be restrained by the technical boundaries associated with the various genres. 

As an artist, it is Mara’s goal to relay the intense feelings associated with mental illness to her audience without stereotypical pretenses or filters. Painting allows that interaction to take place. The paint acts as emotion while the canvas is the treasure chest in which all hopes, fears and vulnerabilities are stored and shared with viewers.

She lends these same gifts to her poetry. Her first book, “Outta My Head and In Your Face,” opened to critical acclaim and adorns the libraries of some of the greatest thinkers of our generation. Through her art and poetry, Mara McWilliams hopes to be a hopeful blaring voice for those who are afraid that life ends after diagnosis.

See more of Mara’s work at www.recoverythroughart.com.

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