Last week, my friend Abby came across this interesting recipe for Bread in a can.
Yes, you read that right. Bread. In a can.
From the website, “Stop! Before you recycle that empty can, upcycle it into something fun and useful! Think of upcycling as recycling’s crafty little sister, a way to give new life to preloved items. Where recycling is usually an industrial process that breaks things down before they’re reused, upcycling is something we can all do. It’s eco-friendly, budget-friendly and a whole lot of fun, too!”
Oh, so now we’re being trendy? Now it’s called “upcycling”? Hmm. Riiiight.
Abby and I were a bit dumbfounded trying to figure this out. I mean, there’s a lot of dumb shit on Pinterest these days, but seriously? An old can of green beans is now a cool baking tin?
Abby: “Okay, banana bread in a can seems more useful–but only if a can is a serving size.”
Me: “But how do you get it out?”
Abby: “It says it slides out, but with my luck I’ll just have to grab a fork and eat it out.”
(Abby realizes she said ‘eat it out’ and she laughs. She’s more interested in her boyfriend ‘eating it out’ but hey, who’s counting?)
Me: “Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not trusting the idea of it.” I’m thinking about all the tin cans I’ve ever opened and how I could’ve easily killed myself with a wrong move toward the general area of the veins in my wrist. Judging by the fact that I’m clumsy and not really a cook, I’d probably die. Death by tin can.
Abby is clearly thinking the same thing (which is why we’re friends): “No and you’d cut your arm off trying to butter the sides so it would slide out and it would probably get stuck on that lip thing that will cut your arm off, but not cut the bread. It’s like trying to make the universe say FUCK YOU to your face.”
Me: “Let’s re-write the recipe and call it ‘how to saw off your arm with a tin can.'”
I’ve been incredibly popular with men in the past decade, in part because I was following the prescription for fame and attention: be half naked and flirt a lot.
And as any woman knows, it’s always good to show off your boobs.
But let’s be honest, I was fresh out of a cult and wanted to give a big FUCK YOU to the purity movement I’d lived in for seven plus years. So it was only right that I did what I did and trust me, I’m okay with all the attention I got. It doesn’t make me any less human.
People have said over and over they don’t know why Kim Kardashian is famous. Yes, you do. I believe her fame emerged after her sex tape. And Paris Hilton. And then let’s take Coco from Ice Loves Coco.
The reason these women are famous is because sex, nudity, and ditsy behavior sells. It makes you famous.
I went through a dumb blonde phase (see photos above) where I insisted on pretending I was stupid, pretended to get bad grades, and really pretended to care about asshole dudes. But the problem was that I was just pretending. I am not stupid and I didn’t get bad grades. I may or may not have cared about some of those assholes.
I learned very quickly that the male attention I got during those days was for one reason and one alone: I was sexy. I was also thin. As the years went on and my depression compounded my issues, I gained weight. Sure, some people still think I’m sexy and some still hit on me, but there has been a huge decrease in male attention over the past few years. I believe my own mother said that if I lost some weight I’d find a good man.
The odd thing about my weight gain is that it’s directly related to wanting to be invisible. After being miserably hurt by those I loved, I didn’t want to go through it again. I didn’t realize I may have purposefully gained weight so I didn’t have to be around people, or trust them, or even get male attention. But this is one thing my therapist proposed to me a week or two ago. We just started talking about it and I’m not sure what all is truly behind that desire for invisibility but it’s very clearly present in my life. It also manifests in other ways, too, but the weight gain is most noticeable.
Back to fame. I know a girl who recently made herself semi-famous. She has no talent that I know of, but she’s taken very sexy, half naked pictures of herself. As a result, she’s everywhere and can get any media attention she wants. For awhile, that was my plan. Lose some weight, get famous. As a writer, fame would be very helpful. It’s a plan that certainly works, but as I started getting to know myself a bit more, I realized it’s not for me. I do love being half naked or whole naked, but I don’t like being inauthentic. I don’t want to live my life as an act and for me, acting stupid would be an act. Being naked would not be an act. I’m naked right now and I often write naked. But not to turn you on.
I’m not saying that girls who sell out for fame by being naked are wrong or stupid. Sometimes, I think they’re quite smart because they are marketing GURUS. I often wonder if it is an act, though. How much of them really wants to be famous for who they are? Or because of a talent they may be hiding because it’s not “what hot girls do”? I’ve noticed a lot of celebrities have very good hearts and sometimes even brilliant minds.
So when Katy Perry said today that she’s tired of fame, I get it (not the fame, of course). I’m sure she may even regret it sometimes. But because fame is this monster that can often turn against you, you have to play the game or the game will kill your career.
So, while I’m still pretty, I’m pretty fluffy. And I am not a huge fan of sharing my fat pictures with anyone but here’s one:
It’s easy to hide after becoming fat and as anyone who has ever gained weight knows it’s even more difficult to take it off after putting it on. I’m healthy and I’m secretly happy with my fluffiness, yet I know I’ve stacked to odds against me when it comes to finding love. But you know what? Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I did this to myself–to prevent myself from finding love again. If you don’t find love, then you don’t have to deal with someone not loving you, rejecting you, or abandoning you.
On the other hand, somehow through all of this, I’ve found myself. I wear my glasses with pride instead of thinking they make me look ugly. I read feminist books and don’t care if that makes me unappealing to the straight male. I am smart and I’m not afraid of being who I am, regardless of how others judge me. I don’t often wear makeup, I refuse to wear stilettos anymore and I may be more interested in reading or debating than what others tell me I should dress like or look like. Because of all that, I’m very happy.
I could tell the last time I stepped into Kohls. Pumpkin spice candles everywhere. Yum. That’s my favorite smell and it lets me know the holidays are coming. I can’t wait for Christmas time. Christmas movies. The smell of cinnamon spice. A fluffy blanket. Family and friends everywhere.
Fall is romantic in it’s own rite although it doesn’t quite compete with Christmas on the romance scale. Here are some gorgeous reminders of what Fall looks like in other parts of the country (besides CA). What are your favorite things about fall?