Cool body image shows on BBCAmerica

If you're looking for something less mind-numbing to watch than A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila (not that I don't watch that. Sometimes.)...

BBC AMERICA is going to be showing a number of really fascinating-looking documentaries in December (all on Sundays) as part of the channel's "Body Image Month." The topics will cover crash diets, breast size, being overweight, and feeling you were born in the wrong body. Check them out:

SUPER SKINNY ME
Sunday, December 2, 10:00 p.m. ET/PT. **TODAY

Female celebrities seem to be vanishing before our very eyes. Ellen Pompeo, Kate Bosworth, pre-pregnancy Nicole Ritchie, Keira Knightly and other stars seem to be in a race to size zero (and beyond). But what are the costs of such extreme weight loss, and how can you possibly maintain such an unnatural state?

Super Skinny Me is a shocking, reverse version of Super Size Me. In this graphic account of extreme dieting, two journalists, Kate Spicer, 37, and Louise Burke, 28, are followed as they adopt extreme weight-loss methods used by celebrities and models—everything from colonics to protein shakes—with the goal of dropping five dress sizes in five weeks, plummeting from the average size 8 to a catwalk size 0. Along the way, the journalists—and the audience—are forced to confront the serious mental and physical side effects of such an experiment, revealing the true cost of the Hollywood look. Said Louise of her experience, “The last thing I want to do is show people how to lose the weight. The aim of the experiment is to show and highlight all the horrible, nasty side effects. I don’t think I’ve ever been so unhappy in my life.”

476-LB. TEENAGER
Sunday, December 9, 10:00 p.m. ET/PT.

Teenagers often feel awkward and self-conscious, but at four times the size of the average teen, Bethany Walton has never felt pretty. At the start of 2006, Bethany was Britain’s fattest teenager, weighing in at 476 pounds. When she was told she would not make to adulthood, she opted for radical stomach-reducing surgery.

She’s since lost 96 pounds, but surgery hasn’t stopped her life-long habit of comfort eating. Even worse, with her new, smaller stomach, she finds eating certain fibrous, healthy foods difficult. The surgery also doesn’t shelter her from stares and hurtful comments. Bethany said of her experience, “People stare at you, children say, ‘Mummy, why’s she like that?’ If someone had been particularly horrible to me, like a drunken person across the street shouting, ‘Oi, you fat b*tch!’ I’d feel so low.”

Obese for almost a decade, her biggest battle is ahead. In order to get to the root of her problem, she decides to see a therapist. Even though she desperately wants to change her ways, she sometimes worries she’ll be a different person, and may even lose her friends. Bethany hopes to focus on the things she is proud of, like her studies. Will she learn to overcome the psychological effects of being obese? Will she ever wean herself from an emotional attachment to food?

MY SMALL BREASTS AND I
Sunday, December 16, 10:00 p.m. ET/PT.

This documentary uncovers the complex, poignant and sometimes amusing relationship women have with their breasts. Speaking candidly, three women reveal how they feel about their small chest size.

Kate Bailey’s self-esteem is so impaired, she barely goes out. A mother of two, Kate worries that her negative body image will affect her children as they grow up. She travels all the way to New York to see an innovative photo therapist, who, through photography, gives her clients a different perspective on their bodies.

Laura Taylor has wanted breast implants since she was fourteen. She’s so desperate for funding, she’s logged on to an innovative website that allows men to donate money to women for breast implants. She even visits with one of the lucky recipients to talk about her online experience.

Sharon Tan could easily afford breast implants, but she doesn’t want to go under the knife. Instead, she’s trying her own DIY method to increase her chest size. She takes herbal supplements and she’s also invested in a breast enhancement machine—that’s getting in the way of her love life.

Through visits to bra makers, psychologists, photographers and surgeons, three women try to make their own breasts look bigger and also hope to accept what they’ve got.

MY BIG BREASTS AND ME
Sunday, December 23, 10:00 p.m. ET/PT.

The average chest size of a teenager has grown dramatically over the past ten years. Find out what it’s really like to have a cup size at the far end of the alphabet in this documentary tracking the experiences of three large-breasted women. Some may think large breasts are a blessing—but at least for these three, they’re a curse.

Music student Jodie Oliver, 23, is petite. Her feet are a size one, but her chest is a 28K—and still growing. Coming from a family where the women have relatively small breasts, Jody sets out to find out why her breasts are growing. In order to make her friends understand, she takes them shopping, fitted with size K prosthetic breasts. Will they love having large breasts enough to cope with the physical effort of lugging them around? Will they like the kind of attention large breasts command?

Maddie Barlow, 19, dreams of working the fashion industry, but she feels that her F cups are holding her back. She pops out of the latest fashions, never quite looking anything like what comes down the runway. For example, supermodel Giselle is portrayed as curvy, but Maddie’s three full cup sizes larger. Afraid that her look is holding her back, the camera follows Maddie as she tries to find a place for big breasts in the fashion world.

Now in her thirties, Vicky Scarfield has finally had enough of her 34H breasts. She’s sick of hiding them, always dressing in black, always standing with her shoulders hunched to make them look smaller. She’s fed-up with avoiding unwanted attention to herself and her breasts. Concerned that surgery is too expensive and would leave her scarred, we follow Vicky has she embarks on a regime of exercise and herbal remedies in order to reduce her breasts naturally.

TEEN TRANSSEXUAL
Sunday, December 30, 10:00 p.m. ET/PT.

When Lucy Parker celebrated her 18th birthday, all she wanted was to become a woman. An especially daunting wish, considering Lucy was born a boy named Richard. Teen Transsexual documents the voyage from Richard to Lucy—one that's complicated by her young age. As a minor, gender reassignment was impossible—illegal, even. But Lucy started her journey in her early teens with her family's blessing and hormone therapy.

It’s been a long voyage from Richard to Lucy. Lucy admits knowing she was different, even as a small child, “At about eight years old, I realized, for sure, that my body was wrong. I always thought to myself, ‘I wish I could become a girl, I wish I could.’ and I didn’t think there was a possible way.”

After confessing to a therapist, Richard had to come out to his family. He admits he was terrified he’d be insulted, hurt, maybe even disowned. Since age 16, Richard’s been living full time as Lucy—classified by the medical profession as a pre-operative transsexual, which means her body is still male.

Now that she's 18, there's another hurdle in her way. At an age where few people solidly know who they are, she has to prove that she's ready for this irreversible surgery, and that it will allow her to function better, psychologically and socially. With the support of her family, her therapist and surgeons, will she finally be able to leave her former gender behind?

WG readers:
Please note that the above wording is from BBC AMERICA - I have not been able to preview these shows and am simply passing along the info because, quite frankly, I think they sound intensely interesting. Unfortunately, I don't get BBC AMERICA but if anyone out there does and has a chance to watch, please fill us in. I'm going to try to obtain a copy of the first one, which involves purposefully extreme weight loss and if I do, will review it - in a heartbeat - so we can discuss the tactics used by the documentary-makers.

Barechested and pregnant

Raise your hands if you've seen the newest cover of Marie Claire! (Except, of course, if you're Christina Aguilera...if you raise you hands, a pic like this is going to go from cheeky and risque to pornographic and raunchy real quick.

The photos are causing quite a stir, especially because this is a woman who refused to utter a peep about her pregnancy until she was practically toppling over - and yet now, she's appearing nakesters in a beauty magazine.

I don't have a problem with women posing while pregnant, or documenting their changing body in whatever way they choose (photos, belly casts, etc). But what I do take issue with is the obvious (and insane amount of) airbrushing that appears to have taken place. First of all, why is she orange? Is she eating too many carrots? Also, how on earth could her entire body be that ridiculously smooth and creamy, with nary a stray vein, stretch mark, wrinkle or even a beauty mark? Doesn't this present an unrealistic portrayal that could make everyday pregnant women feel badly about their own bods?

Also, I think the whole sexualization-of-pregnancy has gone a wee bit too far. I mean, she's wearing an open, cropped leather (non-maternity) jacket and wedding ring - nothing else - on the cover. On the inside, she's sporting mile-high, fuscha-soled high heels - ironic considering she told the magazine (of performing), "There are so many things that could go wrong — somebody could slip, somebody could fall, I could fall.There was no way ... I was going to jeopardize my baby for my show."

What are your thoughts on the cover?

Growing old gracefully

This cool new study just came across my e-desk: According to Veronica Buckley, Ed.D., adjunct professor at DePaul University’s School for New Learning, women who age vibrantly tend to possess qualities such as passion, adaptability, commitment to lifelong learning, a proactive approach to healthcare, positive relationships, high self-esteem and self-reliance.

The professor studied five high-achieving women over age 70 to suss out what propelled them to achieve vibrant aging (“vibrant aging” being defined as being sound in body and mind and maintaining sustained independence.) For example, Natsumi, 75, grew up in Japan during World War II. She married an American soldier and moved to the U.S. after the war – knowing little to no English, mind you – and with just a high school level education. Natsumi and her husband divorced, but she turned her lemons into lemonade, learning English, completing not just an undergraduate degree but two graduate degrees and is now pursuing a second doctorate (at 75!) She also teaches college courses and recently self-published her autobiography.

Buckley says it seems that the tendency of successful women like Natsumi to age well (or "vibrantly") is liked with their being content and accepting of their stage in life.

Ooh – another great example from the DePaul professor: Terri, 71, was raised in a single-parent home where, sadly, she experienced the suicide of her own mother, who took her life when Terri was in her 20s. But drawing on her inner strength, Terri broke the cycle of sadness (there were other suicides in her family) and became an elementary school teacher, marrying and raising a family. Like Natsumi, Terri divorced but nonetheless persevered, going back to school in her late 40s and became a therapist dedicated to counseling troubled teens and young adults.

This is such positive and motivating news! Keep your chins up…tomorrow is always another day and positivity and happiness could be right around the corner. Or, should I say, are right around the corner?

Scaling back

So....

Today I had a photo shoot for an award I won from the University of Wisconsin-Madison (my alma mater). It's really exciting - it's called the "Forward Under Forty" award and it's given to 20 undergraduates under the age of 40 who have been leaders in their field and also exemplify what it means to be a true Badger alum. Needless to say it's a huge honor and I am extremely proud.

But I'm not writing this to brag. There is a method to my madness.

I met the photographer (also a UW alum) at my gym for the shoot, because he wanted to incorporate a scale into the pic and I obviously don't keep these vile creatures at home. With permission from my gym's manager, I was able to use a medical scale located in the cardio area...it had wheels on the back so it could be moved relatively easily.

Todd the Photog and I found an empty raquetball court that would work well and as he began lighting the space and setting up his equipment, I went to fetch the scale.

Now, normally I'm a sweaty, flushed mess when in the cardio room but today, I was dressed in a raspberry V-neck sweater, Seven jeans and high-heeled black boots. I had makeup on. I looked (admittedly) pretty nice. This worked in my favor, as the people there probably didn't recognize me when I tiptoed into the room, tilted the giant scale back and started rolling it across the tile floor like some kind of fitness fanatic-burglar.

Did I mention the wheels were there to make it easier to transport? Oh, what I meant to say was the wheels didn't do squat because the scale is made of heavy metal and the whole thing banged loudly as I dragged it past the stretching area, into a freight elevator and down a looong catwalk to the racquetball court.

It only took about two seconds before I realized the irony of the situation. Here I was, a body image writer - a former eating disorder patient, for crying out loud - literally dragging a giant scale in public like it was some sort of 50-lb-tumor that had suddenly appeared on my body and needed to be haphazardly carted around. All of the sudden, I became a walking metaphor: The woman who "carries" her weight around with her, letting that number slow her down.

A woman in an awesome 80s leotard thing saw me and cocked an eyebrow.

"Give it up, sister!" she said. "That's a little obsessive, dontchyathink?"

We both laughed. It truly was funny and quite ironic. It was as if I'd become the Patron Saint of Weight Loss Addicts - representing all the women who hop on that and other scales everyday, judging their worth by the number that appears. The scale was like my cross to bear, an albatross too big to fit around my neck, so I had to lug it behind me.

The photo shoot went well (we took a bunch of pics with me standing behind the scale, arms crossed on top, and some others with me sitting down on the thing, leg crossed and looking up.) Todd was awesome and told me about a shoot he has for a major sports pub tomorrow, where he'll be photographing athletes' hands. Once we finished, I had the unenviable task of dragging the scale all the way back to the cardio room. Again, many people stared at me like I was a crazy lady. One woman said nothing but her jaw dropped a little bit. I smiled and said, "I never go anywhere without it!" A group of guys having some beers at the bar made growling sounds and told me I looked good (this has so many implications and possible interpretations that I'm remiss to even tackle it.)

The scale was returned to its rightful home...though I probably messed up the calibration system with all that back-and-forth - my apologies to the twig who jumps on it, only to see a big old "500 lbs" staring back at her. But then again, I kind of hope that happens. It just underscores the absurdity and meaninglessness of numbers. I'm not saying I'm perfect or don't secretly get a minithrill if vanity sizing puts me at a Size X instead of a Size Y. But I damn sure don't let that scale drag me around...or down.

A penny for your pounds?

The other day at the gym, I was lifting weights (curling 15-pounders, if you must know. I'm a momster), when a news bit came on the TV about an Italian mayor spearheading a project to help his citizens lose weight: He's paying them.

Basically, men living in Mayor Gianluca Buonanno's city of Varallo will received 50 euros (about $74, I believe) for losing 9 pounds in a month; women will get the same amount of money for sweating off 7 pounds. I'm not sure the reason behind the discrepancy in weight loss goals, but perhaps it has to do with the fact that guys often lose weight more quickly than gals.

Bonus for the Italians (35% of whom are overweight or obese): If they keep the weight off for five months, they'll receive an extra 200 euros.

I thought this was interesting - not just because I was exercising at the time I saw the news about exercising, which was oh-so-meta, but because it goes to show that many people who feel they don't have enough time to workout...or energy...or proper equipment...might be much more willing to change their tune for a little cashola. A recent study in the Journal of Occupational & Environmental Medicine explored this as well. Two hundred overweight/obese volunteers were promised money for weight loss (1/3 of the volunteers were given $7 for every 1% drop in body weight; 1/3 received $14 and the rest got nada). The painfully obvious conclusion: Those who were paid the most lost the most.

If I were comtemplating weight loss and felt saddled by a lack of motivation, I absolutely know money would help. Money always helps! (Except in the case of sweet, naive, pre-Grey's Patrick Demsey in Can't Buy Me Love, but that's another story). On the other hand, we can't always put the responsibility on others to get us healthier. Not every town has a magical, suave money-man named Gianluca who's going to fund our expensive jeans habit. Just like it's unlikely those recovering from drug addiction are going to have someone looking over them, paying them for every day they avoid cocaine.

Don't get me wrong - I applaud the public health effort going on in Varallo and of course, anything that can be done to improve a population's overall health is good in my book. Er, blog. But perhaps there's another way to incentivize men and women without dipping into a community's coffers? I know many people motivate themselves during weight loss by setting mini-goals and buying a little something for themselvs at milestones, like a lipstick at 5 pounds or a fab new sportsbra at 10 pounds. For me, it's the ability to indulge in my fave foods combined with keeping myself healthy and clogged-artery-free. And stress relief. And it just makes me feel GOOD.

How about you? What are your motivations for working out? Looking hot in your leather pants? Avoiding a family history of diabetes? Running a 5K with your best friend?

Ciao, bellas!

My lip gloss be cool...

Lip Smackers are great and all, but how much do I wish I had this? Ben & Jerry's flavord lip balms! Sadly, available abroad only.

American girls need sweet lip love, too! (No, I did not intend that to sound as dirty as it does.)

Random things I'm finding interesting...

OK, so first of all, how cute is this little apple jacket? It's an actual knitted cover-up for your apple so it doesn't chill-I mean, bruised.

Now, how gross is this: According to an article in this month's Women's Health, the average woman eats four to nine pounds of lipstick in her lifetime...between 481 and 1,083 tubes. Just the thought that I might even purchase more than 400 lipsticks in my life makes me a little queasy. (PS for those who read WH, I wrote the Undercover Lover story on sex toys! Yes, my parents are proud.)

Fitsugar has an interesting article on keeping your body ergonomically correct while shopping this holiday season. As someone who constantly shleps a laptop bag and heavy tote on my right shoulder, sometimes in addition to a gym bag and the occasional shopping bag (or three), I totally need this info.

Lastly, will somebody please tell me and the rest of WG what Tofurkey tastes like? I want details - flavor, texture, satisfaction, the whoe shebang. A few of my friends ate it for Thanksgiving and swear by it. (FYI for the pure carnivores out there, a Tofurky Roast contains no meat and is made with organic, non-genetically engineered soybeans.)

PS I had tea yesterday with an associate producer from iVillage, Valerie, who helps me greatly with this site--she's the smarty who puts the quizzes together so you can vote/waste time at work--also supplies me with ideas for blogs and generally is just awesome. And I'm not just saying that because she brought me a giant, creamydeliciousoutrageous peanut butter-and-chocolate cupcake. But that helps. Thanks, Val!!!

"You are beautiful"

That's what the mailbox just told me!

No, I didn't take an extra dose of crazy juice today. I just opened a public mailbox to send one friend a "Congrats on your new baby!" card and to return an empty Hewlett packard print cartridge (love how HP provided pre-paid envelopes for that!) and staring me in the face was a silver sticker that read, "You are beautiful." Someone must have stuck it there with the intent of making everyone who sees it feel good. I know it brightened my day. The US Postal Service is really stepping up its game!

And yes, I double-checked the mail slot...not to make sure my letters went down, but to sneak a quick second peek at the sticker.

Sometimes the littlest thing can make a big difference in a person's day. On Friday, I met with a friend of mine from high school (my prom date, actually) and I wasn't feeling too well. As we paid for our tea at a family-owned restaurant, the cashier - a slightly awkward teenage boy with braces and a not-yet-dropped voice - looked at me and blurted out, "I like your hair!" I felt a grin spread from ear to ear...not only do I never get complimented on my hair (I'm no Pantene model) but the kid said it in such a genuine, no-holds-barred way. I tipped him. Hard.

Pass it along - give a compliment to someone today.

This is what Thankful means...

My family dinner Thursday went surprisingly smoothly, considering the tredipation I felt about the holiday. I spent a day with my mom and sister-in-law, chatting and cooking (well, my sis, the fourmet chef, cooked. All I did was cut up a butternut squash. Damn! Those things take effort. Like, biceps and shoulder muscles! I was so fatigued from cubing a simple vegetable that I had to lie down and passed out for 30 minutes.)

Then, on T-Day, we had 10 family members over to my parents' house and lounged around, ate, watched bad TV - I fear I killed a large number of brain cells by getting sucked into a marathon of a horribly stuped show called MANswers - and, most importantly, did a lot of laughing and enjoying each other's company.

As we sat down to the actual feast and started passing stuffing and carnberry sauce, turkey and Jell-o mold, I looked over and saw my grandpa, a wonderfully sensitive man who has also been strong of body and mind while also portraying an enviable appreciation of his feminine side...crying. Now this is not an unusual thing - as I said, Morty can be muey metrosexual and cries at things like me showing up wearing a cute top that he thinks I look good in, or the first time I actually baked something (at age 31, natch). But this time, he was sobbing. Hands over his eyes, tears down his cheeks, quietly sobbing. I nudged my husband and he looked at G, then back at me, and we smiled, because we both knew where the tears were coming from.

"I just want to say," Morty announced after a few up these episodes passed over the course of five minutes, "that it is my one wish that all of you, in 20 years, feel as happy and proud as your grandmother and I feel right now." In an especially funny twist, my grandma was not only NOT crying, but looked at her husband with a look of bemused astonishment and yelled out "Morty, how many Jack Daniels have you been drinking?!" I admit, JD was present, but just a bit and besides, my grandpappy cries sober all the freaking time.

But when he made his tear-filled proclamation, my heart warmed as I realized, THIS is what being thankful truly is. Loving your friends and family with an open heart. Being present. Taking time to let others know how your life is better just for having them in it.

I think making a list around this time of year is even more important that writing New Year's resolutions because saying what you're thankful for is so much more than eeking out a list of ways to "improve" yourself. It's reflection and acknowledgement. So here's part of my list:

I'm thankful for a husband who accepts every single part of me, who supports me in all of my enedeavors, who laughs with me - hard - because he gets my sense of humor more than anyone I know, and how is unendingly patient and understanding.

I'm thankful for my home, which Dan and I bought together and keeps us warm, protected, safe and represents our future together.

I'm thankful for my family...my parents who are still together after 35 years and support each other, especially through the hard times. And my grandparents - 60 years together and going strong - who serve as an example of what and who I want to become.

I'm thankful for my brother who is probably one of the coolest, smartest guys I know and continues to impress me with his success and perserverance. Jeff inspires me with his ability to brush setbacks off his shoulders, his creativity and his ability to accept others for who they are.

I'm thankful for my friends, who not only care about what's going on in my life, but care enough to share, in very real and raw ways, what's going in their worlds. These women lift me up, make me cackle with laughter, treat me as sisters to themselves and aunts to their babies.

I'm thankful to my readers - this blog has been a life-changing experience, allowing me to reach out and connect with compassionate, funny, whipsmart women from around the globe. If iVillage had never asked me to begin writing, I'd be missing out on so much stimulating conversation and, of course, the new friendships that have developed as a result.

Thanks also to my body, for keeping itself strong and fit and carrying me/pushing me through miles of running, hours of yoga and weight-lifting, even just letting me walk to the mailbox and back.

And on a more general note, I'm thankful for: Changing fall leaves and all they signify; women's rights advocates around the globe, striving to make changes for the better; my garbageman, who likely goes largely unnoticed but without him, this place would be in shambles; bad reality TV, which helps take me away (ironically) from reality; a smart, ready-to-be-cracked-open book; fresh fruit and chocolate; a 10-yr-old car that looks like something a robotic cat threw up but gets me from point A to point B; my beautiful engagement ring, which my husband's great grandmother and mother wore before me - it makes me feel so special; and for a career which lets me prattle on about issues large and small, which inspires others to think and rewards me emotionally, spiritually and financially.

Please, please...share what you are thankful for. I very much want to hear your answers.
Love,
Leslie

T-minus 12 hours 'til T-Day!

Nibble just three Hershey's Kisses a day during the holidays and you'll gain a bazillion pounds!

Dark meat is bad for you!

Pecan pie is sooo fattening - avoid at all costs!

Bah!

I just want to enjoy Thanksgiving...splurge a bit, laugh a lot and be thankful for my friends and family.

A while back, I mentioned an article I wrote for Shape magazine about my own personal struggles with this food-focused holiday. I want to share it with you here - not only because I'm particularly proud of it, but because I know many of us have experienced/are experiencing some similar feelings. It's on the shape.com home page - I'd love for you to check it out.

What does an eating disorder look like?

Many of you may know Charlotte, a frequent guest on the Weighting Game who possesses great insight, a tremendous talent for writing and is both incredibly witty while also being very sensitive to others' needs. I wanted to post a blog of hers that I just read - it hit me hard and hope it touches all of you, too. Thanks, Charlotte.

What does an eating disorder look like?

"Someone please tell me because I don't know.

Does it look like my friend Abby at the gym? She works out hours a day and is so thin she looks like a walking anatomy chart. Every few months she goes away for awhile. When she returns, looking slightly less gaunt, she tells us she was on "vacation." While she's gone, her best friend Ella instructs the rest of us on how to handle Abby when she returns from the eating disorder clinic. "Don't tell her she's looks good," Ella pleads. "Don't say anything about the way she looks." The day before Abby had run away from her in-patient clinic. Literally. Ran in 100 degree weather with 70% humidity until she collapsed. The clinic kicked her out. "And whatever you do, don't mention the weight gain." Ella's face is the picture of concern, "because she's, like, definitely gained." We all nod and promise but I'm left wondering why Ella brought it up in the first place. None of us would ever say those things. Yet somehow I don't think it's solely about protecting Abby. Ella needs to share the burden. She needs someone else to know.

Does an eating disorder look like my friend Caroline? A beautiful mom of three beautiful kids, she recently confided to me that she throws up "you know, not all the time. Just when I need to feel better." And how often is that? "Not all the time. I mean, I used to do it three times a day but now it's just... well, just to take the edge off." The edge off of what? Her marriage is crumbling. They are deeply in debt. She feels fat. "But it's not about the weight," she says emphatically, her deep brown eyes narrowing to make sure that I get it. I do get it. It's about the control. That's why she told me. Because she just needs someone else to know.

An eating disorder must look like Rebecca. She was my first friend when I moved here. Funny, outgoing, caring & opinionated we hit it off immediately. We lived across the sidewalk from each other and our kids are exactly the same ages, so we spoke every day, over the din of six tiny voices. And then my husband and I bought a house in a different neighborhood and she & I lost touch. Until her husband called last night. Rebecca is in the ICU with a machine breathing for her. Her husband found her unconscious. Complications due to anorexia. That's all we know right now. I asked her husband if I could come visit her. "Well, she's not conscious yet and they only allow one person in the ICU at a time..." But I'm going anyways. I need to be there. Even if she doesn't know.

They're dropping around me like flies. I'm not sure what to say. I'm not sure what to do. All 3 are beautiful, talented women. All 3 are mothers. And now, what I need to know, is does an eating disorder look like me? Running through ice rain in the dark. Never missing a single scheduled workout in three years. Charting all my numbers & statistics. Running my endless experiments. Combing through pages of research. Am I dedicated? Am I sick? Am I both?

I know that no doctor anywhere would diagnose me with an eating disorder right now. I don't fit any of the criteria. My weight and blood work are healthy. Exceedingly healthy, in fact. And, most importantly, I'm happy. I love the runner's high that I get. I count the minutes to my next "pump". There is no measure in the DSM-IV for my excess. My obsession fits right in culturally with our national obsession. And yet...

What does an eating disorder look like?"

Look at the huge brains on HER!

Most people don’t know this, but when visionary rapper Sir Mix-a-lot penned the thoughtful lyrics “I like big butts and I cannot lie, and you other brothers can’t deny, that when a girl walks by with an itty-bitty waist and a round thing in your face you get SPRUNG!” he was really offering a social commentary on the evolutionary link between curvy figures and increased offspring potential. “Get sprung,” in other words, is simply a metaphor for the mental excitement that comes with realizing a woman can conceive, deliver and care for your child with love, maternal knowledge and compassion.

What the hell am I talking about, you ask? Well, in good news for well-rounded women everywhere, a study of 16,000 women and girls published in the journal Evolution and Human Behaviour recently found that women with curvy figures are likely to be brighter than their pin-thin counterparts…and may actually give birth to smarter kids! The secret seems to lie in the waist-to-hip ratio: the bigger the difference in numbers, the better. This may have to do with the fact that Omega-3 fatty acids - the same ones which make up a lage part of or brains - tend to be stored in the hips and thighs. (There‘s a “get your head out of your ass” joke in there somewhere but I‘m too lazy to concoct it.) Anyways, when puberty, lovely puberty, begins, girls start storing these fatty acids - primarily below the waist - as preparation for pregnancy, during which the fats will help the fetus’s brain develop well.

So basically, when men drool over celebs like J. Lo, Beyonce, Eva Mendes and Kim Kardashian (well, OK, she’s not really a celeb, but yoou see where I’m going), they can’t help it! It’s their ancestors whispering, “She will give you Einsteinian babies! Go to her.”

Incidentally, this may be linked with all the hooplah lately about eating omega-3s while pregnant - so many vitamins and foods are enriched with the brainiac building blocks. My husband actually eats omega-3-enriched pasta and oatmeal. Maybe he’s trying to tell me something?

Bottom line: If you’re way curvy but in proportion, go forth a procreate so your children can help take down evil-doers like Ann Coulter. It you’re slim, try the A Cup fit in the Sweet Cheeks line of denim.

And, in the end, as with so many things in life, I feel the only proper way to end this blog is with another of Sir’s famous, ahead-of-his-time lyrics: “You can do side bends or sit-ups, but please don't lose that butt.”

Pudgy pets

Does this not just break your heart?

I'm not even a cat person and I feel like meowing in pain.

It looks like the obesity epidemic has outgrown the human race and is infltrating the world of pets. Diabetes is on the rise among dogs and kitties (as many as one in 50 are currently suffering from the insulin-relate disease) a trend my neighbors insist on perpetuating by feeding their pugs mayo-drenched chicken salad and then going for a walk...oh, never.

Animals shouldn't be eating human food - a rule firmly entrenched in my mind ever since my old, sweet Lab-mix Missy once got into a trayful of cupcakes and proceeded to poop-barf all over the family room. (May she RIP.) They need to run, to jump, to be taken out for fresh air and taught tricks and cavort with fellow pups, like at my neighborhood hotspot, Wiggley Field. I mean, does this look like a happy camper to you? Or this bruiser?

Instead, some pet-owners now have to perform regular blood sugar tests on Fifi and Mr. Snuffalufagus. I'm sure repeatedly piricking an obese cat is extremely pleasant and not at all like a scene from The Exorcist. Of course, if your pet happens to be, shall we say, a bit curvaceous, there are animal weight loss camps - I kid you not - or you can put your kitty on Catkins, a high-protein, low-carb diet that I just learned about today and wlll insist on incorporating into three out of every four future blogs.

*Note: Please avoid showing these pictures to your own animals. I do not want to be held responsible for any developing body image issues in your young, impressionable Snickerdoodle.

Bizarre quote of the day:

Asked about his exercise routine, who said, "I don't do it. It would hurt me. I would die from it, I'm afraid."

????

Enter your guesses and I'll tell ya soon! Ps It's not Hugh Jackman, Brad Pitt or Matthew McConaughey.

What butt cup size do you wear?

OMG, this is frigging hysterical!

Milk & Honey, an Australian fashion house (why am I so Aussie-obsessed this morning? Crickey!) has just released a line of jeans rigged with something called the Sweet Cheeks fit system.

“It’s the bra for your bum,” designer Gill Milligan, who developed th concept, told Sydney’s Daily Telegraph. “Like you have a 10A or 10B in a bra you have a 10A or 10B in these jeans.”

To gear up your rear view, pick from:

- The "A Fit," which is for thinner women with more boyish bods - thin hips, tiny tush.
- The "B Fit," for curvier ladies (or, in the words of the web site, "bootylicious, round, baby’s got back, rubenesque, hourglass, womanly, voluptuous.")

The range offers both fits in sizes 6 to 14 and plans to expand into larger sizes.

Want an idea of which celeb would fit the different Sweet Cheeks system? Milligan told interviewers that Christina Aguilera and J. Lo would be prime candidates for the B-fit, while Cameron D. could rock the A-fit. Beyonce? She'd be a C-fit, the designer said...although I can't seem to find a C-fit description anywhere. (And really, shouldn't the woman who coined the term "bootylicious" fall into that category?)

Anyhow, I would totally try these jeans. I think it's a fun concept and makes sense for those of us whose cherries don't always match the rest of the sundae.

Visit ILoveMilkandHoney.com.au to order.

WWJV? (What would Juan Valdez think?)

Want to jack your kids up even more? According to a story I just spied in Australia's Daily Telegraph, coffee may soon replace Tang and CapriSun as the drink of choice amongst Mexican toddlers.

American company Voyava Republic and coffee cooperative La Selva (a popular Mexican coffee producer) are reportedly partnering to help improve the nutrition of children in southern Mexico with...coffee!

I give Starbucks exactly 3.4 minutes before they are all over this like foam on cappucino.

Here's the thinking: The coffee which will be sipped by the malnourished kids is fortified with folic acid (good for little growing bodies), iron and other nutrients. Hmmm. Because bananas would be too kid-like? (In full disclosure, I have no real knowledge of the food items readily and cheaply available in Southern Mexico, but it would seem like folic acid-rich foods, like nanners, oranges, peas, or enriched flour/cereal shouldn't be terribly hard to find?)

Anyhow, the caffeinated brainstormers are figuring that since the kids they are targeting in Chiapas' coffee-growing community already throw back at least one (if not several) cups o' joe daily, why not fortify it. I kind of get this mentality, but isn't it sort of like adding vitamins and minerals to Diet Coke (as was recently done). Why not encourage healthy eating rather than fortify junk food? Not that java is junk food, but the stimulating, addicting drink is likely not high on the list of "beverages I want my baby to drink." I mean, I can just see the American ad campaign now - the Starbucks mermaid breastfeeding a little baby with a biscotti in one little hand and a cigarette in the other.

The article cites a quote from a North Carolina nutritionist, Tom Donofrio, who admits to being skeptical about the program, especially because it's coffee (versus, say, a whole food like milk) being nutritionally enhanced. But, he conceded, it could be better than nothing.

This I agree with. When we're talkng about sick or starving kids, I wholly support providing vitamins and other essential elements any way possible. If there were a country where the only food locally grown and available was, say, chocolate frosting (and let me just say - dear God, I hope there is such a place) and that frosting was a staple of kids' diets, I'd be up for a calcium supplementation program or mixing the frosting with protein powder. I actually just Googled Chiapas and learned that the state suffers from the highest rate of malnutrition in Mexico, estimated to affect over 40% of the population. So yes, anything that can be done to help growing kids is a move in the right direction. I think this article/concept just caught my eye because here in the US, where coffee shops are on every corner and kids can have their moms order them a "Tall hot chocolate" to go with their organic milk box, it seems more than a tad absurd, like Angelina Jolie's daughter carrrying a matching Fendi bag.

I'm off to a coffee shop (no joke) to write for the day. Will check in to see what thoughts you've posted!
Leslie

Seen: At a fancy gym in Las Vegas...

A man riding the stationary bike wearing:

Red collared tee shirt
Black knee socks
Black shoes
White brief-style underwear

And nothing else. He was speaking in a European-sounding language and frightened the dickens out of me.

Whoa, mama

For all of you who have given birth or are thinking of doing it, I just found this site, Shape of a Mother, in which pregnant women post pictures of themselves at various stages of preggers-ness. Check out this mom, who's housing twins up in there! I like how the photographer described it as, "This is definitely not a photo for everyone. It isn't designed to be flattering, but to convey very much how she was feeling about the moment."

Here's a beautiful and classy nude I found...

A post-pregnancy belly button...

Awww....

And twins in the very beginning.

View more pics here (and remember to take your birth control pill! Or not.)

Tyra's Bodyville

Did any of you catch this Tyra show a week or so ago (rhyming!)? It was fascinating! The two-episode production was called Tyra's Bodyville and 10 women of all racial and ethnic backgrounds, different sizes and shapes were brought together for a pretty radical and jaw-dropping body image social experiment. All the lasies, from very thin to plus-sized, were outfitted in nude-colored body suits and asked to stand in front of a mirror and, as honestly as possible, explain what they saw. The women were raw and put their hearts on the line, and the show literally had me crying at certain parts.

Some of the women were happy with themselves "from the neck up," while others felt just OK with what they had. A couple were pleased with their figures; however, most expressed some degree of shame. Some snippets I caught:

"Sometimes I get dressed in the dark so I don't have to see it" - "it" being her body.

"My ex-boyfriend told me my body was damaged goods.' (Can I kill him please?)

"I can't get enough of my body."

"I feel good, I feel confident, I feel like a supermodel. [But] I'm Trinidadian and people say, 'She needs to gain weight. She's a bag of bones.'"

"When I look in the mirror, I see fat. I have six different sets of love handles. [In school] kids...would call me things like whale and baby beluga. When I was in school my classmates wouldn't let me sit with them because they said whales weren't allowed.".

Oh. This is making me sadder and sadder just writing the comments down.

After this exercise, the women were put together and given 10 cards about the size of an open notebook. Each one bore a different weight-related descriptor: Thick. Coach potato. Needs to eat. Athletic. Bangin' body. Fat slob. Etcetera. The ladies then had the unenviable task of, one by one, lining each other up and debating the particulars of her body, in order to assign a certain label to her. Each woman then had no choice but to wear it around her neck, like the metaphorical albatross that body-related labels so are.

Now, of course, we all do this to some extent every day. We judge other people based on their looks, no matter how hard we strive to be loving and kind and fair. It's human nature. But to see it played out in this forum, where the women HAD to make a decision - their bodysuit-clad bodies set against the stark blackness of an empty theater - was heartbreaking. One woman had to get Fat Slob and to see these women - most of whom I truly believe are compassionate individuals and were struggling with the task at hand - to see them cast glances at each other, calling out physical "flaws" or ascribe personality traits based on looks...it was a real eye-opener. I was quite proud of them, as this could not have been easy. Ironically, a thin European woman wound up getting the Fat slob label primarly because she was pretty harsh in judging the others, so they stuck it to her by giving her the least desirable sign. Someone later, on stage with Tyra, made a funny comment that it was fitting the she (the thin one) got the most horrific label because she was ugly on the inside.

This reminds me of a quote I saw recently, I think from an actress, that said something like, "I don't want to be remembered simply by my epitaph reading 'She was thin.'" Right on. There is So. Much. More.

What a unique and educational experiment. I wish they could show this kind of thing in schools to little kids.

Did any of you catch it?

In sunny San Diego!

Hi all,
Just dashing off a note - about to speak at University of San Diego. The last of my colege tour...very bittersweet. And not a Pinkberry in sight to calm my nerves or soothe my pain. I'll find some chocolate, I'm sure!
Hope everyone is great :-)
xox,
Leslie

It's a small, (too) small world

My family and I used to hit up Disney World every holiday season and I LOVED it (well, except for those fun, angsty teenage years when I hated it and why won't you just leave me alone?!) One of my, my mom's and my grandma's favorite rides was "It's a Small World." I always smailed, looking up from my motorized pseud-canoe and the little dolls swaying back and forth, circling the fake ice-covered pond, dancing in clogs among the tulips.

So you can imagine my surprise upon learning the famous ride in Disneyland is now closed. For almost a year. Why? No, not because some overly-PC tourists compainted about the accents/words being stereotypying, or because some kid jumped in the water and got his Crocs stuck in the conveyer belt. It's closed because - rumor has it - visitors are too big. Yup, we Americans have become so overweight that "It's a Small World" needs reinforcement.

I'm sure the Mickey Mouse-shaped ice cream bombs and gooey cheese fries at the end of every ride have nothing to do with this.

I learned about "Small World"'s not-so-small problem from a blog on Huffington Post written by documentary-maker Bryan Young. Young is fascinated with America's obesity epidemic and is currently making a film called "Killer at Large" to illustrate the causes, effects and possible solutions to this problem.

In his blog, Young wrote that while the ride was originally built to hold average-sized visitors, in the last 40+ years, the boats have actually bottomed out, causing operators to stop the ride and help escort people off. (According to different web stories I've seen on the topic, the original boats were designed and built in 1963 based on the average adult male rider weighing 175 pounds; women, 135). "The boats and the ride have been in faithful service with no changes until now," Young writes on HuffPo, "and America's expanding waistline is the culprit." He adds that similar problems have plagued the "Pirates of the Caribbean" ride. Damn Keira Knightley!

I used to work for the American Medical Association and fighting obesity was a major area of advocacy. At a conference I one interviewed (now former) U.S. Surgeon General Richard Carmona, MD, and as we walked across a ballroom at a ridiculously fast clip, I remember his telling me obesity, in his opinion, was the greatest threat to public health today, killing more Americans every year than AIDS, all cancers and all accidents combined (I admit, I don't remember his exact words and refreshed my mind by visiting the web site. But he did say this.)

According to Disneyland reps, heavy tourists are not to blame for the revamp, but rather built up fiberglass patches which have added to much structural bulk to the boats. Sounds like spin, no? Nobody wants to cry in the Magic Kingdom, after all.

What would Ariel the shapely Little Mermaid say about this??

Baddha Utthita Parsvakonasana!

Don't ask me how, but in yoga on Sunday, I managed to not only twist my bod into this pose (yikes!) but then managed to stand up while still bound up, all pretzel-like. (While keeping my arms clasped under my yoni, I moved the extended leg forwards towards the bent one - picture me now in a crazy, about-to-sit-on-the-toilet pose - then I slowly stood up on one leg. So in this pic, I'd be standing on my left leg.)

Then my upper back started shrieking and I crumbled to my sticky mat to stifle the screams. Advil today was a must. But I'm proud! Namaste.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...a ham soda?!

Jones Soda Co., who makes the funky bottled drinks you probably see in Starbucks or high-end grocery stores, is giving us a special treat thiis holiday season, with new flavors for Hanukkah Harry and Santa Claus alike.

Among their holiday-themed limited-edition packs of flavored sodas are The Christmas pack, featuring Sugar Plum, Christmas Tree, Egg Nog and Christmas Ham, and The Hanukkah pack, with Jelly Doughnut, Apple Sauce, Chocolate Coins and Latkes sodas.

Bonus: It's all kosher! And in the spirit of giving, a portion of all proceeds to be given to charity.

In the past Jones has produced crazy concoctions like Green Pea, Sweet Potato, Dinner Roll, Turkey and Gravy, and Antacid sodas (fr Thanksgiving) and - steel yourselves - Perspiration, Dirt, Sports Cream and Natural Field Turf (as part of a contract to provide soda to Qwest Field, home of the Seattle Seahawks.)

I'm going to try to get my hand on some of these...I would love to surprise my grandma this Hanukkah with some Latke-flavored pop!

What cookie are you?

I was snooping around fellow WG reader Alexandra's blog and found this cute quiz that answers that burning, age-old question: If you were a cookie, what cookie would you be?

I took the quiz here and, lo and behold, I am a chocolate chip cookie.

Apparently, I am sweet (but not too sweet) and I "fill other people's lives with tasty bits of awesomeness." I don't know if that's even proper English, but it sounds so damn good, I'm going with it. The cookie quizzers got it wrong when they said I'm "no perfectionist" – the truth is, I'm a perfectionistic freak. But the rest - I'm popular, loveable have an irresistible personality? Well, I'll take that and a cookie any day :-)

Oh, by the way, my favorite question from the quiz is this:

You're in a room with Scarlett Johansson, Johnny Depp, a psychic, and a judge. Everyone is hungry, but you have the only cookie. What do you do?

- I share it with Scarlett Johansson.
- I share it with Johnny Depp.
- I share it with the psychic, and try to find out if he/she is for real.
- I share it with the judge, because I think he/she has the toughest job.
- I don't want that stress. I'll give the cookie to the judge and ask him/her to make the decision.
- I suggest that we all play a game and compete for it. Winner gets the whole cookie.
- I attempt to break the cookie up into five equal pieces, even if it means we all end up with a handful of crumbs.
- I offer everyone a bite.

That's the kind of question that keep me up at night.

Tell me what kind of cookie you are! And have a wonderfully sweet weekend!
Love,
Leslie

Can you sketch me a six-pack?

I love me a six-pack on a man -- abs, not beer. Sexy, yummy, proof of dedication...although I do think it can be intimidating if the guy is so into his cut abs. I mean, at some point it can turn from healthy and attractive to obnoxious. Anyways, I never realized just how obsessed some guys can be until I read about this new trend called abdominal etching.

Etching takes liposuction a few steps past crazy and into the realm of "Oh. My. God. People are doing this to themselves?" It is plastic surgery to achieve washboard abs that can't be achieved via endless crunches, carb-restriction or creative spray tanning. Basically, several tiny incisions are made in either the belly button or in natural creases of the abs. The surgeon uses a cannula - the same instrument you've seen Dr. Rey pushing in and out of peoples' bellies and thighs during liposuction) - to sculpt six-pack-like grooves into the fat layers to emphasize a muscular appearance. The best candidates, doctors say, are individuals who are already in very good physical shape (ie under 15% body fat - LOW). Or are Chippendales dancers. Or are batshit insane.

Here is what the results look like. (PS why do these models have larger breasts than I do?)

My Fall book report

Skinny Bitch
By Leslie G.

True story: A bum once asked me for change while I was living in Boystown, Chicago’s gay district. I said, “No, thanks,” because I was trying to be polite. And as I passed, he mumbled, “Skinny bitch.”

I remember being both taken aback but also a bit confused. Was this an insult? Yes, I’m pretty sure. But, as my retro 50’s-style magnet reads with a wink, “You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing.”

As for the “skinny” insult, he was likely insinuating I lacked the impressive breasts and bootyliciousness which was surgically bestowed upon many of the drag queens living in my neighborhood.

I was reminded of this episode when I sat down to offer you by thoughts on the monster hit book Skinny Bitch by former model Kim Barnouin and former model agent Rory Freedman (Running Press, 2005). The slim tone created a frenzy when Posh Spice was seen looking at it in some expensive store and the paparazzi took a pic, though it had been out for years before that. Soon, it seemed, everyone was carrying it around like some sort of Bible. I never bought it because I’d heard it was actually filled with hardcore anti-meat rhetoric, but during a recent blog about the benefits of cow’s milk versus soy milk here on Weighting Game, dear reader Charlotte challenged me to a book report. After putting it off for ages (sorry, Char!), I’ve finally committed to doing it. I called the publisher (I should mention it is published by the same house taht published Locker Room Diaries, Perseus, though in a different division), requested a review copy, and…

found that it was, in fact, filled with hardcore anti-meat rhetoric.

But first, let’s talk a bit about the writers’ style. Within the first 10 minutes of skimming, I was called (in no specific order):

Gross
Fat pig (if I drank alcohol)
A bloated fat pig
Lumpy ass (if I consumed soda)
A pussy (if I drink coffee)
Cankles (Ack! Flashback!)
Drama Queen (if I took cold medicine)
Lazy shit (if I didn’t exercise.)

OK, so I get it. They’re sassy and all “tell it like it is.” Many people respond to this kind of treatment. It's why exercise boot camps make money, why people pick physical trainers that scream and yell - hey, even I stick with my therapist because he's anti-softie and shoots the shit straight.

That said, I don’t see the point in trying to motivate people by degrading them. I’m not being prude - I have a bawdy sense of humor, too (anyone who has read my book or spent three minutes around me knows that.) But their manner of writing borders on abusive...and that's OK, free speech, etc….but it doesn’t mean I have to love it. Also, I would imagine it could scare off or depress readers who are trying to start up a health plan - the viewpoint is quite totalitarian. You either follow these rules, including no meat, cheese, milk, eggs, or sugar - or you’re a lazy slob.

I did have a hard time taking the book seriously. Yes, Barnouin holds a Masters of Science degree in Holistic Nutrition. But the book, (which, I’ll admit, goes to great lengths to meticulously cite research) picks and chooses whatever studies and findings suit their agenda. For example, they make the claim that “[calcium] supplements do not make a significant difference in preventing or treating osteoporosis” and cite a holistic doctor named Gabriel Cousens. This is simply not true. A quick search of the literature will show you calcium supplements are recommended for women of all ages to help stave off the bone-weakening disease. (One is from JAMA’s Arch Intern Med., in April of last year.) The authors are trying to encourage women to obtain calcium through plant sources which, I agree, is beneficial. But many women need supplements to reach the recommended 1,000 mg of calcium each day. (Adults over age 50 need 1,200 mg/day.)

Some concepts I did agree with: Cigarettes are not healthy for you. We could all stand to cut out soda from our diet (that said, I am drinking a Diet A&W Root Beer as I type). Trade white, refined carbs ("White Satan"!) for brown rice and whole grains. Increase your fruit intake. Stop relying on fake sugar so much.

But Skinny Bitch takes it all a few steps too far. Not only is fruit good for you, they say, but it should only be eaten alone, because it “rots and ferments” in our stomach otherwise. Sorry. No. If you eat an apple with some peanut butter on it, or an orange and some cereal, your stomach will not become a festering cesspool of rotting produce.

Did it raise my awareness about the atrocities that can occur to some animals during slaughter? Absolutely. Horrible things happen to animals during the slaughtering process and that is reason enough alone for me to avoid foods from certain industries. But do I agree with their all-or-nothing view that we must not consume anything produced by an animal? That simply taking the first step of decreasing one's red meat intake and increasing lean poultry is not good enough? No. I think it IS a great step for people to, say, cut back on their red meat, or substitute a vegetarian meal once a week (or more!) Or eat egg white omelettes instead of eggs. I believe in baby steps.

Overall, the book managed to bug me but also made me laugh - how can you not snort when, while at a dinner party, someone picks up a book and starts reading, “In Chapter 11, we provide an ‘acceptable junk food’ list that’ll make your nipples hard.” (p18). Or “…habitual drinking equals fat-pig syndrome. Beer is for frat boys, not skinny bitches. It makes you fat, bloated, and farty.” (p12). I mean, it’s funny. I also happen to love that one chapter is called "Don't be a pussy." But I don’t accept their theory that FAT = UNHEALTHY and SKINNY = HEALTHY. We all know people who are very thin but lack any muscle tone, or curvier women who run marathons.

I guess I’m not a skinny bitch after all.

PS I'm sure I'll get skewered by fans of this NYT bestseller, as well as hear from people who agree with me. I absolutely welcome everyone's opinion and am eager to hear your thoughs.

PPS Two other reports of the book I recently stumbled across: fellow iVillage blogger This Fish who wisely said, "But bitchiness requires talent, not a low calorie intake." Also, check out your fellow reader Charlotte's new blog,
The Great Fitness Experiment. I chose to not read her book review yet so it wouldn't influence mine - I'm going to as soon as I post to see how we match up! I believe she's vegetarian...let's see!

I'm a Column! No - a Pear! WHAT?

In Women's Health 101, we learned about the two main body types for women: Apple and Pear (aw, how cute. We're fruit!) Most women are pear-shaped, with larger hips and a smaller bust. But then, my prof explained, some women are Apples, meaning they store more of their fat around their middles. Pears are generally healthier than apples.

Wait, are we talking about women or groceries?

Oh, OK - labeling. So there's apple/pear, mesomorph/ectomorph/endomorph, android/gynecoid, skinny/heavy/athletic/curvy, yada yada yada.

If you didn't have enough ways to label your bod, here are 12 more, courtesy of two British TV style experts (think Clinton and Stacy except their names are Trinny and Susanna). The new shapes include Hourglass, Vase, Lollipop, and something called a Skittle. Every shaped MUST be dressed differently, apparently, to highlight your assets. Read on for a few tips...

Hourglass: "Your body is the very essence of what makes a woman womanly. So you are made for the boys, but - you feel - not for clothes.

Lollipop: Many of the world's most glamorous movie stars are Lolipops. With your buxom and endless legs, you are most men's idea of sex on a stick ("Ew." - Leslie) - the female equivalent of a Ferrari ("Double ew!") Yet you can feel surprisingly ungainly at times.

Bell: In your teens and 20's, you were a small lady with a nice, round bottom. What happens to you is the quintessential, hateful, middle-age spread.

And then there's: Column, Skittle, Vase, Cornet, Goblet, Cello, Pear, Brick, Apple.

I had to leave out Cello, Pear and Brick because our survey system has a limit on how many choices I can offer. So basically, there are so many new possible body types/labels that the iVillage computer system is not equipped to handle that.

Crazy, no?

I mean, sure, we all have different shapes, different assets. One woman's bane is another's boon. You can have bigger hips and jeans might be hard to find, but at least you don't have the health problems of most apples! (Though they do have skinny legs.) But do we really need more labels? Do we want litle girls teasing each other, screaming, "Brick!!" in the school yard or puking their way to a Lollipop?

Seing these women in the unforgiving grey Spandex, it makes me sad that they posed for pictures knowing "flaws" would be called out. I dn't want to call my legs "stems." I don't want to be compared to a racecar because of the way I look. Judging from the comments in the original article, readers had a few issues as well:

"Great, now I'm even more confused. I thought I was an hourglass but my boobs aren't big enough to qualify. I've got long feet, slim calves, shapely hips and thighs, a small waist with a curved in back and small belly and small boobs with broad shoulders. I think I'm officially unclassifiable!"

- Katherine Clayton, Northolt, Middlesex

"Here is yet another blatant example of the media trying to pigeon-hole the female body into a few idealized categories. How many women are a perfect "Skittle" or a head-turning "Brick"? How many poor young girls are even now weeping silently over their computer keyboards as they behold the completely unrealistic "Column" in this article, or the obviously airbrushed "Cornet." Many female body types are not even represented here! Where is the Beer Stein? Where is the Diesel Engine Block? The Lump of Bituminous Coal? Why, I would not recognise my own mother (herself a Marmite Jar) in these shallow and simplistic stereotypes!"

- Christopher, Los Angeles USA

"I said I was apple or brick, my beloved said goblet, no hesitation! Just shows how we see ourselves differently to how others perceive us. I feel chuffed now!"

- Leanne, Notts UK

I'm "chuffed" too, Leanne!

How about you?

PS US Weekly called Molly Sims "curvy" last week. Heh. Not.

Be speedy in the locker room

Ooh - as a locker room devotee (I SO need to shower after my four-towel workouts), I'm loving these tips from FitSugar on cutting down your time in the gym:

- Instead of layering a shirt over a sports bra, try an all-in-one top with a built-in bra. This tends to work better for us smaller-busted gals. I love the ones from Lucy.
- Only pack necessities in your bag so you're not stuck fumbling around to find your gear. Now that I'm an a.m. workout-er, I really need to do this so I don't wake my gu. I lay out my stuff the night before, in the living room area, so I can just jump out of bed and slip on my shorts, top and, now that it's getting chilly, a hoodie and pants. FitSugar suggests putting your socks inside your shoes the night before so they're already together.
- Instead of using a headband, pull your hair back in a loose ponytail - since your hair isn't smushed against your head, it can speed drying time.
- Just shower off your body and use a dry shampoo on your head. (Note: I have fine hair and love me some dry shampoo! If I don't wash my hair, like, every two hours, it can look stringy. Dry shampoo makes it full, bouncy, and not oily. The stuff I first tried was by Bumble & Bumble and was actually white (my hair is blonde) but they do make it in different colors - brunette, red, etc. Just have to rub it in really well or else it looks like you sprinkled talcum powder all over! Dr. Hauschka makes a good one, too, called Body Silk for both hair and body - it smells like roses.)
- Try pre-moistened cleansing cloths in the shower so you don't have to juggle bottle of body wash and soap. Fitsugar recommends the ones by Dove.
- Carry makeup in a see-through bag so you aren't forced to grope for your eyeliner or pull out concealer instead of lipstick (yes, I have done this and wound up with creamy nude lips...in a bad way.)

Thanks, Fit! I'll think of you next time I race out the locker room door five minutes early!

Oral Fixation: Saturday poetry slam

Oral Fixation

I just
ate
a ruby red grapefruit,
Chased by
a fun-sized box of
GRAPE NERDS.
Then, the sugary goodness I just ground between my teeth
was w a s h e d away
with green tea.

Colorful?
Oh, yes.
But I can't help but think, as I tongue the extra bits of candy and pulp out of my acid-washed mouth:

Are cavities not imminent?-

- A Poem by Leslie Goldman
Composed: Saturday afternoon, while procrastinating a deadline

Love to spoon?

LA jewelry designer Karin Collins creates wearable art good enough to eat: colorful pendants made from spoons. Each one is different but they are all born out of her passion for spreading the word about eating disorders. They're really unique and beautiful - check them out here.

I'm letting you know about this because from now through Dec. 2,, the National Eating Disorders Association will be holding their annual "Every BODY Is Beautiful" Online Fundraising Auction event (hosted by music star Sara Evans who became an official "ambassador" for the National Eating Disorders Association after watching a close friend battle a life-threatening eating disorder.)

At the auction, get some early holiday shopping done and bid for all kinds of items, from jewelry to spa packages, concert tickets...even a trip to Tokyo for a week!

I really like the meaning behind spoonfedart - a woman using her own creative abilities and talents to work her way through recovery from an illness that affected her for almost 20 years

Click here to learn more!

How old are you now?

I'm not one to lie about my age - ever. I mean, I had a frigging Hello Kitty-themed 30th birthday party at an art gallery where my husband arranged for a signature pink drink - the Lollytini (Lolly is my nickname) - to be served. Turning 30 was a blast.

So last weekend, when I was called "over the hill" by some pissant college kid in a bar, I took it in total stride, right?

Um, can you imagine a life without peanut butter and chocolate combined?

No. Not at all.

I was visiting my alma mater, UW-Madison, with a group of friends and was having a fantastic time. We were at a bar and my friend Trish and I were orderin a round of drinky poos - beer for her, rum & diet for me. A preppy-looking guy, early-20s, half-sidles/half-stumbles up to me and, his eyes slightly glazed over, says to me, "You are fantastic!"

I smiled, mentally patted him on the head like a good little boy and turned around towards my friend.

He persisted and somehow roped me into a brief, indiotic conversation centered around why my friend was drinking beer when she could be having the house shot, an apple-flavored concoction. (Note: I did NOT instigate this convo and only complied because I was buzzed.) I made a comment refencing the fact that, quite proudly, I have not had a beer since 1995 (which is true - hate the stuff. It tastes like the smell of Band-aids and peanuts to me.) Immediately, a cartoon-like thought bubble appears over the guy's head and I can tell the squirrel is racing furiously on the treadmill as he calculates my approximate age. Then, with a look on his face which I would imagine is not unlike when he takes a peek at a "gnarly" skateboarding bruise on his friend's leg, looks me in the eyes and screams, "Dude! You're 40!" As if that possibility were so disgusting, so foul, that he had to hold his breath.

I was a bit taken aback - more so by his being so appalled at the thought that he could be seen talking with a - gasp! - 40-yr-old than by my caring what he actually thought of my age.Then he looked at his wingman and announced, loudly, "Over the hill!" And they left.

And I, being the stubbord foolish, 40-year-old I apparently am, followed him.

Poke poke poke! (That's me jamming my finger into his back, my nose scrunched up a pug.)

"For your information," I snarled, "I am NOT 40!"

"Yes you are!" he laughed. "I dd the math. You graduated in 1993. I figured it out."

(Note: The fact that he thinks this is correct math in any sense and is attending my university makes me cry a little.)

"Actually, you're wrong," I shot back. "I did not graduate in 19---"

He cut me off: "Yeah, it takes six years to graduate..."

Me: "I don't know what bizarro world you're living in, but it does not take most people six years to graduate school and besides...I'm 30!"

Did I mention, WG readers, that I actually am not 30? I'm currently 31. And a half.

Why did I feel the need (a) to prove anything to this kid and (b) to lie, for the first time ever, about my age? And not only that, but I only changed it by one year. If you're gonna fib with a stranger in a bar, go big, no? Tell him you're a lesbian astronaut who was on America's Next Top Model, Cycle Five, or something. But for some reason I chose to simply shave off a year, to 30.

Well, there's a very anticlimactic ending to this whole tale. Doughboy simply shrugged his sholders and turned around, and I was left stading there, my friend watching me like I had just attempted to wrestle a Tickle Me Elmo from a little girl's teensy, fragile arms so my own child could have it. "Freak!" she was prolly thinking.

Then we ordered the most glorious food in the world - Pokey Sticks (cheesy, garlic breadsticks in the shape of a giant pizza, dipped in ranch) and an ooey-gooey late night snack so extraordinary it needs no other name besides "Pepperoni Rolls."

My whole point - why do women often care so much about our age? Like I said, I've always been so proud of my 31-and-counting years on this earth (save for a few better-left-unmentioned moments in dark clubs and high school chemistry class.) But the moment I was challenged, I went into defense mode. I'm wondering, have you ever lied about your age? On a web site? To a potential date? At the doctor's office? Tell me your stories so I don't feel so silly.

Love,
Leslie "Forever Young" Goldman