Alcoholism, Anorexia and You: The Rousing Interests of Facebook.
My sister, a nineteen-year-old fashionista just bursting with optimism, scared me stupid the other day with a hefty dose of reality that I simply must share.
She was checking her Facebook for messages and the usual status updates when she stumbled upon a girl she knew from high school. With her head shoved into the refrigerator, foraging for a midday snack, she gives me the scoop. At 19, this girl is now married, with a baby already in progress.
Sad, but decidedly not shocking. With a desensitized shrug, I listened as my sister went on with her Facebook finding. “Oh, and her profile…. Her interests, all two of her interests are drinking and being skinny.”
While I am compelled to categorize drinking as a mere activity, not necessarily an interest, or at the least, not an interest with any intrinsic value, “being skinny” simply cannot qualify as an interest, right? Right!?
(Disclaimer: I am of the plus-size persuasion and am skeptical of the skinny ‘n’ proud mentality, like it deserves some kind of honorary medal. Still, I hold no bias in this particular discussion. Hell, I wouldn’t list buffets as an interest.)
With this frightening thought in mind, this freelance writer with a fresh stock of cynicism, present to you:
MY TOP FIVE FAVORITE INTERESTS (THAT ARE LIKELY TO NEVER INCLUDE ALCOHOLISM OR ANOREXIA)
1) Reading: Feminist, psychoanalytical, indie publishing, graphic novels, zombies…I’m pretty eclectic.
2) Record Shopping: Girl garage rock and obscure compilations, specifically. i.e., Copulating Blues and Children’s Songs from Japan.
3) Thrifting: As far as I’m concerned, one can never have enough grandma sweaters.
4) Crafts: Sewing, doodling, making zines.
5) Obsessively Collecting Cute Things: Toys, stationery, lawn ornaments. Though I should mention that I have been told some of my so-called cute conquests borderline on deranged.
My sister is still peering inside the refrigerator. My Dad, washing dishes nearby catches wind of our conversation. His hand still sudsy, reaches from the sink to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose. The water from the faucet comes to a halt, as he looks to me and says, “drinking and being skinny, huh? Probably in part, the reason she’s pregnant.”
Thanks, Dad. I’ll never wonder just where I acquired that dry wit we love so much.