Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Make Me A Supermodel

No, not me... is the name of a program that relates to part of this post. No, I don't watch Bravo's "Make Me a Supermodel." I was purely a victim of whatever channel was set on our satellite dish. For those of you who aren't satellite dish owners, one has to buy a receiver for each TV in the house if you want to watch different channels on said TVs. We are too cheap to fork over the cash, so whatever channel the satellite dish box is set on in the family room is broad casted throughout the house, including the little TV in my attic studio. This TV was on because I was/am still working on the mixed-media-art-project-from-hell. Yes, I do enjoy "Project Runway" because I delight in watching designers make clothing out things like Hershey's candy. Yum! Unfortunately, "Make Me a Supermodel" comes on after "Project Runway." I apologize to those of you who like the fore mentioned program. Since I was in the middle of covering the majority of my project with black gesso (which means that I was also in the process of covering my work table AND myself with black gesso), I did not trot downstairs to change the channel or I'd gesso the remote. BIG mistake. Part way through this silly program there was this 75 pound 6 foot tall (OK, I'm exaggerating - she was probably only 5'11") model philosophizing about how she felt that she could maintain her ideal of feministic liberation and still be a supermodel. My immediate reaction was for my jaw to drop to my waist as my hand froze midair resulting in black gesso dripping onto my right foot. This little girl was obviously demented or her brain had ceased to function because she was starving herself to be a size zero.

I didn't think much more about this absurd statement until the next today. I was walking out of work and an event made me realize that despite being an independent woman, priding myself by working in a male dominated field with no help from anyone, and also not judging people by their appearance, education, social status, etc. that I, me, myself, had some schizophrenic opinions that were just as insane as that deluded little girl with no fat cells.

Exhibit #1: A number of years ago, my accident prone beloved fell 20 feet out of a tree on the upper trail of our farm breaking his leg, hip and some ribs. Don't ask the why, how, etc. When I finally found him (he was late for dinner - I figured he was either dead or in grave danger), I realized that we had to call 911 because Leanne and I couldn't move him without further jeopardizing his health which he had already dramatically jeopardized. This is when I realized that I was schizophrenic. The very same person who firmly believes that if someone can do a job, they should be able to - regardless of sex, education, who they know, etc. was soon to display a completely chauvinistic attitude. When the paramedics showed up I realized that I wanted to see 2 really big strapping guys who could pluck Len up with two fingers and plop him on the stretcher. Instead 3 people showed up: two smallish women and one man who was probably 90 pounds soaking wet. All three were shorter than me (and I'm short) and they struggled to get him onto the stretcher without further jeopardizing his health. OK, so I got 3 paramedics instead of 2, but in my mind this was no bargain - no substitute for the 2 body builders I wanted to see in front of me. Here I found myself having the very same thoughts that I criticize others for. But hey, this was merely a one time event probably brought on upon by extreme stress (and being extremely pissed that my husband inadvertently tried to kill himself).

Exhibit #2 (and the event that prompted this posting): Today I was walking out through the security checkpoint at work. Since we have a security checkpoint, this means we have a security force. This force is comprised mainly of big scary looking guys (and some formidable looking women) dressed in black SWAT-like uniforms with automatic weapons on their hips and bigger ones slung over their shoulders. BTW they also have the skill set to go with the outfits. This is actually, in a bizarre way, comforting to me - knowing that my security lies firmly in these men and women's capable hands. However, today as I was walking out of the front gate I found myself looking down at this very young, petite guard who was perhaps 85 pounds and who was not much taller than the automatic weapon slung over her shoulder. There it is again!! My schizophrenia returns! Here my safety lies with this cute young lady who I am sure is very capable but boy is she tiny! Then my brain goes to another shameful stereotype - she's of Asian decent, so perhaps she is a martial arts expert who knows how to kill burly big guys 3 dozen ways with only her little finger. BAMM - here I am with a double whammy - I'm displaying stereo-types on two fronts! It was this thought pattern that made me realize that I was not any different in these my thoughts than many of the people I mock - what happened to the liberated woman I thought I was who did not display any bias against anyone for any reason? So here I am just as guilty as "one-of-them."

On further analysis, I realized that yes, if we had required the fire department to come to our house on the Christmas morning we almost caught our house on fire, I would have wanted more big burly people (male or female) show up to lug those fire hoses down to our pond to suck the water out to extinguish said house fire. There you have it - I'm hopeless!

This just adds to the huge body of evidence that I already have supporting the fact that I am a very imperfect individual. And even in areas where I thought I was a "good" person which is really disturbing. I actually lived in a glass house that is just as cracked as my head. I hope you still love me anyway in spite of all these flaws!! Hopefully I still maintain a few redeeming features. Whatever those may be. ;)


Cheryl Finley said...

Hi Debbie,
I love this! You are so talented! Your work makes me smile...thank you!
Happy 2008...
:) Cheryl

kerrip said...

Wow. It never occurred to me that wretched supermodel program could be so thought-provoking!!! I am also schizophrenic, as I absolutely hate hate hate that show, and how shallow and sad all those skinny people seem -- and yet I envy them. Gotta run, I am off to weight watchers! (really)!