Monday, July 28, 2008


I hate being both self-assured, and not. Knowing exactly who I am, and not.

I'm reading Moose: A Memoir of Fat Camp by Stephanie Klein. It's her fault. She reminds me that I'm still searching; still trying to find my niche; haven't turned out yet. That the vulnerability of my history might never disappear.

The book is about Stephanie's experiences at fat camp. She's compressed five summers of friends, tears, and chub-rub into one fictional season. The real childhood diary entries she's included shine truth behind the perspective of years.

It's not about being fat. It's about everything.

One line in particular sticks with me: "It was okay that I hadn't liked the way I looked, but it wasn't okay that others noticed it too." Insert any flaw, and you'll have the way I feel when the DNB and I fight. It's okay that I don't like the way I try to be in control in life, but it isn't okay for him to point it out. As long as I'm the only one noticing, I can diminish it as my being too hard on myself, as a lack of self-confidence, as anything but real.

Part of the becoming process has to be accepting that others really do see us as effed up as we see ourselves. But while we can't choose to be anyone else, sometimes the right people do choose to stay anyway.


Stephanie Klein said...

That's a beautiful realization. Thanks for sharing it.

Anonymous said...

Yay another Moose fan! I LOVED this book.

S said...

Thanks for visiting, Stephanie! And welcome, Anon.