Posted in Almost Dorothy

Car Ma

Car Ma
Car Ma

“Dedicated to all popes who have played popes, to men who act and become popes, to all the people who want to be popes and to my holy ma, the one true pope.”

I tell ma karma is a bitch. Ma calls me a bitch and says there is nothing wrong with the car. I tell my the idea behind karma and she tells me I have too many ideas in my head. Just get in the car, she says. I stand there thinking just to piss off ma and she yells at me like I’m some kind of zoo elephant. Thinking too much, ma says, is a life not worth livingGet in! As ma gets in the car, she loses her left high heel and breaks an acrylic nail. The shoes are from Payless, so it’s not worth a fortune, but it’s worth a fortune to ma because ma is under-employed as an underwear model and has no desire to work on the streets anymore.(It’s been awhile since I’ve written about my personal life on this imaginary blog about my imaginary life about my imaginary ma. If you’re not up-to-date, which has nothing to do with the dating scene, my ma is nuts.) As we speed away in the car, ma takes off her papal crown and fastens her seat belt. Ma is sweating Maybelline and because of her makeup she looks like what a melting raccoon face would look life if we (or the raccoon) were on acid. I guess they won’t let us back at that church again, ma says. Dressing as the pope in drag and going to church, I tell her, is bad karma. Sharon-Needles-to-say, we didn’t get free coffee or doughnuts after the service. Shit, we weren’t even allowed to stay for the service even though ma offered to bless the congregation with a special papal prayer. Karma is bitch, I tell ma, and sometimes the car is too. Especially when it runs out of gas in the church parking lot.

Posted in Almost Dorothy, Culture Clash

Almost Dorothy (Almost) Celebrates National Eating Disorders Awareness Week

 

National Eating Disorders Awareness Week

Ma says she has a problem celebrating a week that causes so much pain and suffering in the world. She says we should not celebrate National Eating Disorders Awareness Week because we should embrace it and those who are suffering through it. Ma says it shouldn’t be called a disorder because it makes those who suffer feel disordered. She says it’s a social disease that infects all of us, impacts all of us, even if we don’t think it does.

Ma also says unless we proudly include and embrace men who have eating disorders and all the men who do not have eating disorders in this campaign of awareness, we won’t resolve anything, especially not the perfect setting for toast. (Ma often loses focus.) Ma says it is our male-dominated culture that perpetuates the beauty myth, the myth of bubbles, because men are visual creatures and they measure their value  from the outside in. Beauty becomes a thing we can see and touch. A thing that is attached to a body. Becomes the body. And is expressed through the words I love you.

…what you look like…what you represent…what your body says about me when they look at us in public.

Provocative, ma says, yes! But it’s true.

FYI #1: Ma says she would have never gotten two boobs if it wasn’t for her first boyfriend. Wouldn’t have laser-removed her body hair if it wasn’t for her second boyfriend. And wouldn’t have removed her penis if it wasn’t for her third boyfriend. (Re-read, please.)

Ma says true awareness means closing your eyes. True awareness means swallowing the stars from the night sky and looking at true black hanging out behind the full full moonshine. Ma says illumination is the opposite of light. Ma says we have to undress the audience, bring them into the flashlight, and smack them on the ass with whips & chains, so that we (meaning they) can truly get to the bottom (no pun intended) of what disfigures our imagined  bodies. Ma says we are fictional bodies trying to live real fictional lives lived behind and in front of a proscenium of fear and shame.

I think ma is on acid or is experiencing an acid flashback. Just saying. But I’m a firm believer in her power to deliver.

In the documentary film, America the Beautiful, sponsored by the University of Miami Counseling Center’s outreach group BARE (Body Acceptance Resources and Education), it is described in such a way to perpetuate the myth that eating disorders are a.) disorders and b.) a woman’s disease: “we see how…unattainable images contribute greatly to the rise in low self-esteem, body dysmorphia, and eating disorders for young women and girls who also happen to be the beauty industry’s largest consumers.” Ma says its a social disease. The victims are victims like the victim of a gun shot or acid attack.  Count the number of Proactiv, Maybelline and Cover Girl commercials.

I tell ma she shouldn’t attack the documentary and she tells me I should shut up because I don’t know anything about body dysmorphia. I look at ma and she looks at me. I keep looking at her and she keeps looking at me and then I move in just a little closer so that we are face to face–a butter knife couldn’t pass between our noses.

Look ma, I say, what do you see? No face, she says.

Ma faces my no-face and then recalibrates her theory of self-esteem and massive body deconstructionism. I’ll get you a new face, she says, this week. That’s the problem, I say, you see?

Ma looks at my no-face as if she can decode the problems behind it, or inside of it, or on the surface of my blank slate written in Cover Girl hieroglyphics. Ma reaches into her pocketbook and paints lipstick on the spot of my imagined lips. She erases my lips and hands me the lipstick. She encourages me to draw my own lips and the world I live in. Where I want. When I want. I use her compact and mirror myself after her. I use her hand and guide her cosmetic universe across my face. She presses down and kisses the place where I imagine myself the most. In her arms. Somewhere between I love and you.