by Kim Robinson

Created on: May 08, 2008

Love The Skin You're In

"We focus on fixing our bodies. We spend $40 billion a year on beauty products. What if we actually took that money, took that time, took that energy and started fixing the world. Women would actually be in power,"Eve Ensler

In my twenties, I wanted to be thin. I'm talkin' Posh Spice thin; I'm talkin' Paris Hilton thin; I'm talkin' skinny. For some reason, these kinds of women, these anorexic, bulimic, "heroine chic" looking-women, even though they're dumb as rocks, live glamorous, glitzy lives. And I'm getting tired of it.

Strutting their scrawny butts around in Jimmy Choos and Dolce & Gabbana is enough to make a curvy girl like me go absolutely insane. I mean, what have these bimbos ever accomplished? It's not like they're out in the world curing aids, or volunteering their time (they have lots of time) in Darfur. Unfortunately, today's role models require a light resume of nothingness. And even though I loathe them, even though they offend me, I too, desire to squeeze into their Vera Wang's.

"Oh, thank you. Yea, I'm glad you noticed. I'm like, in a size two now; can you imagine? No secret remedy, really, just stopped eating for a year, unless you count water."

Author, Eve Ensler, says in her book "The Good Body," "I had the idea that if my stomach were flat, then I would be good, and I would be safe. I would be protected, accepted, admired, important, loved."

If somebody like Eve Ensler experiences doubt about her body, it makes me wonder how any of us have a chance in hell. I mean here's Eve, who possibly could've been a member of The Black Panthers. Couldn't you just see her; the only white woman thumping her fists in the air yelling "Yea, black power, baby, and as long as I have your attention I'd like you all to scream Vagina100 times!" And at the same time thinking, "shit, I wish I could do something about the jellyroll hanging over these slacks."

It's just not right.

Nobody is safe. My girlfriend had her stomach stapled this year, and I must confess, she's become quite annoying. Once she was one of us, you know, one of the size twelve girls, one of the shapely Marilyn Monroe girls, one of the girls who'd go out and order glasses of Merlot and extra blue cheese with her onion rings, perhaps split lava cake afterwards, but now we can't even dine without her making grating little comments about how many carbs are in this and how many calories are in that. I hate to say it, but she's becoming one of them.

"I already had my three grapes

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