Barbie is unapologetic. I am unimpressed.

Mattel and Sports Illustrated have teamed up to UNAPOLOGETICALLY celebrate their collective century of making females feel crappy about their bodies. The 50th edition of the Swimsuit Issue will feature a photo shoot of the original 1959 Barbie in her striped one-piece alongside the modernized 2014 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Barbie (available in stores this month), as well as an advertorial to drive home the #unapologetic campaign, which fights back against haters by claiming unrealistic beauty standards actually empower women.

A Mattel spokesperson told ADWEEK, “As with Barbie, every year the Swimsuit edition sparks conversations about women and body image, and Sports Illustrated stands unapologetically behind this issue that women, in reality, love ...Unapologetic is a rally cry to embrace who you are and to never have to apologize for it.” 

Hmm... #notbuyingit. The doll, the magazine or the spin.

It never occurred to me to expect an apology before - my Barbie Dream House and Soda Shoppe provided hours of fun when I was a kid, and Barbie has become a bit less disturbing over the years, given the ability to return the male gaze in 1971 and a wider waist in 1997. But featuring a children's doll in a magazine meant for grown men (oh and women who apparently "love" the Swimsuit issue...), alongside hypersexualized, airbrushed images of supermodels writhing around on the beach? And claiming this is a "rally cry" for Average Jane to embrace who she is? I'm insulted. And grossed out. And now I want an apology.


Photo credit: http://www.adweek.com/news/press/sports-illustrated-swimsuit-issues-newest-model-barbie-155653

People Google idiotic things. Idiots tend to be sexist.

This brilliantly disturbing ad campaign from UN Women uses Google's auto-complete function to show popular searches about women worldwide. As it has been pointed out in comments, search results are usually tailored by search history, geography, preferences, etc., but I think that's kind of the point... also written by a TIME reader: "Women aren't moral creatures, they don't have the stake in society that men do.  They shouldn't have the vote." Point furthered.

My first reaction to the campaign was to wonder how my feminist-leaning laptop might auto-complete searches about men vs. women. The results were worrisome - for men who want to live in warm climates as well as women who want to live as equals.

Starving feminism

I’ve always had a hunch that unattainable beauty standards were invented to keep women under the glass ceiling, too busy on the StairMaster to actually, er, metaphorically climb any symbolic ladders. Twiggy’s popularity was just too well-timed with second-wave feminism, and I don’t think any male politicians have had to worry about their “cankles.” But it wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that I actually saw this dangerously effective distraction in action.

I was attending a meeting of about 20 marketing colleagues that was run by an attractive, fit woman, probably in her 40s. I’ll call her Boss Lady. I had never seen her in person before the meeting, and her attractiveness was actually the first thing I noticed upon meeting her. (I realize that makes me a bad feminist, but the first thing I noticed about a male colleague was his wonky cross-eyes, so hopefully this habit just makes me shallow.) Boss Lady was very put-together, sporting a flattering pants suit – the kind that reminds me I’m in the wrong profession, as I could never pull the outfit off, and have no interest in spending the money to try.

On the second day of the meeting, Boss Lady was at the front of the room in another power suit, “whiteboarding” our ideas (kind of like waterboarding, but in business casual), when a colleague walked in front of her to get back to her seat after stepping out. Boss Lady was in the middle of saying something about strategic marketing strategies but lost her train of thought when the other woman walked by, who was probably in her early 30s and wearing skinny black pants – possibly jeans – that, if I hadn’t been second-guessing my push-up bra and sweetheart necklined dress that day, I would have thought were slightly inappropriate for our conservative office.

Skinny Pants apologized for interrupting, and Boss Lady excused her, saying “Oh, it’s not your fault. I was just thinking how it’s just not fair how some people get to be so skinny! Like you, and you!” She accusingly pointed at Skinny Pants and another waifish woman in the room. Disturbingly, I was a little insulted she didn’t point at me. Maybe it was the cleavage.

Slightly less disturbing than my reaction, and that the comment was made at all, was that Boss Lady appeared to be in excellent shape, and Skinny Pants was, in my opinion, verging on dangerously thin. When she had walked by the front of the room, I was actually noticing her wispy hair and wondering if she might have an eating disorder.

So at least two professional women in the room were more interested in Skinny Pants’ body than discussing strategic strategies – in my case I’ll blame it on the fact that my job bores me to tears (some days literally), but I’m worried about Boss Lady. Her outburst was followed by an uncomfortable silence – and a loss of authority.

And I’m pretty sure she was just saying out loud what many women are constantly obsessing over internally when they could be thinking about strategery, or reproductive rights, or world peace – something other than the unsolvable problem of their inner thighs touching.

To quote Caitlin Moran’s How to Be a Woman, which has recently inspired me to stop being such a crappy feminist (Thank you to my feminist role model/sister for recommending!), “You can tell whether some misogynistic societal pressure is being exerted on women by calmly enquiring, ‘And are the men doing this, as well?’ If they aren’t, chances are you’re dealing with what we strident feminists refer to as ‘some total fucking bullshit’.”

Two-piece solution to the bikini debate

Gwyneth Paltrow's kid bikinis have reignited a debate that has apparently been going on for years, according to my extensive (okay half-hour) Internet research, but I think a little vocabulary lesson should clear this right up.

According to Wikipedia, the word "bikini" was coined by its inventor, Louis Réard, who was competing with  a rival designer to create "the world's smallest swimsuit." He named it after Bikini Atoll, where testing on the atomic bomb took place, because he believed "the suit's revealing style would create a stir among people similar to America's atomic bombing of Japan the previous summer." (Um, weird... but it sure is still creating stirs!) The garment he created resembled women's underwear, and he could not find a model daring enough to wear his design, so he had to hire a nude dancer to model it.

And according to Merriam-Webster, a bikini is "a woman's scanty two-piece bathing suit." (I will ignore the second definition - a man's brief swimsuit - for the sake of my argument, and because America has agreed we're against those.) The definition of "scanty," FYI, is "limited or less than sufficient in degree, quantity, or extent."

So, what we've learned here is that by etymology and current definition, "bikini" denotes sexy, and "kid bikini" connotes creepiness.

What is okay, however, and where the debate gets muddled, is two piece swimsuits for girls. The difference? More coverage and less allusion to lingerie and cleavage. Following this logic, judgment of recent controversies becomes rather simple:

Apparently people were up in arms about this picture of Suri Cruise... there are plenty of creepy things about her parents, but dressing her in this two-piece is not one of them.

These swimsuits marketed by Elizabeth Hurley, however, are most definitely creepy. I even feel creepy posting them... and don't even get me started on the leopard print.

I actually don't mind Gwyneth's as much, but again, I just find the words "kid" and "bikini" being used together inappropriate, and there's something about the way the models are posed in the first picture that gives me the uneasies.

Which brings us to our worst offender: Jessica Simpson apparently Tweeted and shared on national television this photo of her daughter in a questionable swimsuit and obviously contrived pose. It's one thing to take a goofy picture of your kid in order to torture her with it later, perhaps in a wedding slide show, but it's quite another to share a questionable picture like this with the world, which is, unfortunately, full of sickos.

So there you have it. I'm sorry Gwyneth, but for the sake of ending this debate and curbing creepiness, "kid bikinis," no matter how relatively tame, need to go out of style. For good.


Photo credits:
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/04/24/the-misplaced-outrage-over-gwyneth-paltrow-s-bikinis-for-little-girls.html
http://www.babble.com/celebrity/is-suri-cruise-too-young-to-be-wearing-a-bikini/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/09/17/elizabeth-hurleys-bikini-kids_n_1890428.html
http://www.goop.com/shop/melissa-odabash-exclusive-kids-new-york-bikini-set.html
http://www.usmagazine.com/celebrity-moms/news/lol-jessica-simpson-shares-baby-maxwells-first-bikini-pic-2012109

Desperate shopwives

Watching all of the holiday shopping commercials, it occurred to me that a new kind of icon has replaced the 1950s housewife.

The home backdrop has been replaced with discount stores, and the glazed-over eyes and frozen smile have been replaced with frenzied determination and unapologetic cockiness.

A funny kind of crazy has replaced a creepy kind of crazy.




It seems we can now exhibit masculine energy, but apply it to feminine tasks - which is apparently pretty hilarious - crazy women taking their silly lives so seriously.

"Girls rock" is SO last season

First Forever 21 and J.C. Penney came out with shirts for girls that said "Allergic to Algebra" and "I'm too pretty to do homework so my brother has to do it for me" (sexist, terribly written AND hideous!).



And now Gymboree is selling "Smart like Dad" and "Pretty like Mommy" onesies. Apparently a "Smart like Mommy" variation doesn't exist.


What's next? Maternity tops that proclaim across the belly, "Here's hoping she's dumb and beautiful!"? Adorable!


JC Penney and Forever 21 pulled their shirts when customers voiced their outrage. Sign this petition to tell Gymboree they're perpetuating damaging gender stereotypes.


Photo credits:
http://act.credoaction.com/campaign/sexist_shirts/?r=231259&id=27202-2415163-OdD0YBx
http://sparkamovement.tumblr.com/post/12568193592/whenrobotsreproduce-a-friend-of-mine-posted-a

Feminist edit

A screenshot from today's nytimesonline.com article, "I.B.M. Names Virginia Rometty as New Chief Executive":


I guess old habits do die hard.

Playboy clubs history

In an August Hollywood Reporter article about NBC's new show The Playboy Club, Gloria Steinem, who worked undercover at the club to report on working conditions, predicted the show would not "depict the scene realistically." And if last night's episode was an allusion to Steinem's Bunny stint, the show has indeed taken rewriting history to a new level.

The episode introduces us to Bunny Doris, who we first see auditioning for a job at the club. Even though Club Manager Billy thinks she's "full of herself," Bunny Mother Carol-Lynne sticks her neck out and hires the enthusiastic applicant. Then we see Doris shakily begin her Bunny career, barely able to walk in her high heels. Despite the never-ending slew of annoying questions Doris fires at her new colleagues, her fellow Bunnies happily welcome her and give her the inside scoop.

Unfortunately, Doris turns out to be an undercover reporter for the Daily News. The friendly little Bunnies have been duped. But instead of reporting on sexual harassment, low wages and mandatory STD testing, like Steinem did (guess the rule against "dating" keyholders doesn't prohibit other activities...), Doris writes a sensationalized story, entitled "Bloody Bunny," about a Bunny who killed a man. In the one twist I actually didn't expect, that Bunny ends up being Janie (not Maureen, who we saw kill a man in the pilot), but of course Don Draper wannabe Nick Dalton saves the day, somewhat inexplicably.

Part two of the "Bloody Bunny" story is buried, and Doris is shamed by Carol-Lynne after she tries to explain herself:

Mother Bunny Carol-Lynne: These girls come from all walks of life, and they're just trying to go somewhere better ... we give these girls a chance. I don't understand why you would want to destroy that.

Bad Bunny Doris: I came here to find a big story, and I thought this was the kind of place where terrible, illicit things happened.

MBC: And instead you found a group of hard-working girls just trying to make a life for themselves. Why don't you write about that?

BBD: Because that kind of story doesn't sell papers.

MBC: Maybe not, but at least it's the truth.

So ... is that what Steinem should have written about? How Playboy empowered hard-working girls? Sadly, as much as the male producers of The Playboy Club are trying to convince viewers that Bunnies were the only women who could be anything they wanted, that they were changing the world, it's simply not the truth. I'm not even sure it's a television show ... seems more like a PR campaign.

Photo credit: www.nbc.com

A facial for your vulva!

A promotion I received today from a hair removal salon entertained and disturbed me so much that I've mustered the energy to end a rather long blogging dry spell.

Tucked away about halfway down an email titled "What's New in August," I found this:

Where to begin!? First of all, WHY would they use "What's New in August" as the email title (and subject line)? I would imagine something like "Does your vulva need a facial?" would have improved the open rate. Second, I'd just like to draw attention to what they've named the service: "Jewel Box" - as if "vagifacial" isn't descriptive and creepy enough.

But they are doing something right ... in terms of marketing (very wrong, of course, in terms of helping women, as those objectives are almost always at odds). Per Advertising 101, the text informs the consumer of a problem she probably didn't even know she had, and offers up a solution. And in doing so it taps into tried and true insecurities, but also creates new and innovative reasons for women to hate their bodies - and spend their money.

Perhaps Sketchers should shape up

Companies marketing "adult" products to young girls is nothing new (Abercrombie Kids' thongs, "sexy" Halloween costumes for tots, etc.), but something especially irks me about the new Sketchers Shape-ups for girls commercial. It's the sloppy and misguided use of "girl power."



What exactly is going on in the scene where the trim and happy girl is being chased by slovenly boys dressed in ice cream cone, cupcake and hot dog outfits? Girls rule and boys drool? Or skinny girls rule and fat girls drool over junk food? All of the above?

Girl power used to mean hairy armpits, burning bras and the rejection of oppressive norms. Then marketers got a hold of it and are trying to convince a younger generation that it means attaining the very same unattainable beauty standards the feminist movement tore down.

I think it's messed up that Sketchers is marketing Shape-ups to girls (and if you agree I encourage you to sign this petition). But I'm not going to deny there's a market for them (that's unfortunately probably a lot more profitable than Shape-ups for boys). What pisses me off more is that the campaign mixes the girl power message with another that tells girls as young as seven that they need to shape up.

I buy beauty products and am probably a little too obsessed with going to the gym... I also consider myself a feminist. I'm pretty sure the latter is in spite of, not because of, the former.

Are British women happier than American women?

I may have missed the point of Saturday's New York Times column about Britain's new "national happiness index," but the part that most interested me was the British research mentioned that found "women tend to be happier than men." Huh? I always assumed men were happier than women ... they make more money, have less socially unacceptable body hair to contend with, grow more attractive with age... I thought that's why they fall asleep faster -- nothing but visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads.

A quick Google search confirmed my suspicion -- with regard to Americans. So how have our sisters across the pond achieved the upperhand when it comes to happiness? A few theories:

• Uniformed schoolgirls learn about role models like Elizabeth I and Margaret Thatcher -- without the distraction of dressing themselves in the hottest fashions every morning.
  
• Although the UK has a similar salary gap, British ladies can at least admire the likeness of their gender when parting with their hard-earned cash.
  
• While their lack of grooming and dieting obsessions might offend American men, this doesn't seem to bother British women much.
  

My Slutty Feminist Halloween Costume

Last year I poked fun at "sexy" Halloween costumes as if I didn't partake in the ridiculousness.... but this year I have to be honest. I am actually quite vain, and I like looking relatively attractive on Halloween - and most other days. But don't let that fool you. I am indeed a feminist - and adept at the art of rationalization.

Now I'm sure you've seen flapper costumes before, and you probably brushed them off as somewhat risque on the Halloween slut spectrum. But that was before you knew the meaning behind them!

Yes, the word "flapper" once meant "prostitute," but let's not dwell on that. The flapper costume is a nod to the "new breed" of young women who rebelled against traditional Victorian gender norms in the 1920s.

Ironically, many old-school sufragettes "viewed flappers as vapid and in some ways unworthy of the enfranchisement they had worked so hard to win." But others argued that "flappers' laissez-faire attitude was simply a natural progression of feminine liberation."

Oh how history repeats itself! I think instead of giving dirty looks to their flapper-costumed sisters, females who take the high road with banana suits or Amelia Earhart outfits should join us in ridiculing sexy schoolgirls (or any other pedophilia-encouraging ensemble) - or better yet, helping NARAL and Planned Parenthood get pro-choice candidates elected next week - once we've recovered from Halloween hangovers.

Quote source - Wikipedia; Photo courtesy of costumebox.com.au

Last PC comic standing

Just when I thought there were not enough hours in the day to squeeze another reality show into my life, I found Last Comic Standing, which I've never really gotten into, although it's apparently in its seventh season. I'm not going to complain here about the comedians, because I do think most of them (in the semi-finals) are funny. And really, I pretty much laugh at anything. But the main reason I watch reality shows is to be annoyed - so I'm going to complain about the judges.

This week a comic got criticized for an inappropriate joke about the homeless, but then another comic who made a joke about abused women was applauded for his "original" and "dark" set. I understand the importance of being politically correct, and I understand the humor in being politically incorrect - what bothers me is inconsistency. If one joke was actually funnier than the other I could be more understanding, but in my opinion they were both mediocre. Then again, maybe it's my fault for turning into a humorless feminist when a comic talks about his standup "bombing" at a women's shelter because "they wouldn't listen." (About 1:20 into clip below)

The other comic made fun of her "hip" office for including in an e-mail promoting a clothing drive that jeans shouldn't be torn or "outdated," picturing a homeless person turning up his nose at acid wash. If the homeless person had been a woman with a black eye, would that have made the joke more "cutting edge"?

How did I miss boobquake??

It has come to my attention that yesterday was boobquake day. Ironically, it was the one day I was actually modestly dressed, in a button-down shirt and vest, of all things.

Apparently the boobquake rally stemmed from Blag Hag's reaction to a comment by Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi, a senior Iranian cleric:

"Many women who do not dress modestly ... lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which (consequently) increases earthquakes."

Huh? You're probably thinking something got lost in translation here... but the Associated Press corroborates the story.

So Jen McCreight of Blag Hag suggested immodest gals unite to test Sedighi's claim by sporting teeny tanks and plunging v-necks on April 26. What started as a joke went viral, attracting 14,000 attendees to the Facebook event and pushing "boobquake" to the top of Twitter's trending list.

Well, it's April 27... I think it's safe to say the earth survived. (You can find actual data here. Love it.)

Figures that I would miss the one occasion where I could proudly display my cleavage in the name of feminism and science. Guess I'll just have to continue to show it off in the old-fashioned name of vanity.

Double (D) Standard

According to Brandweek.com, ABC (and Fox) had a problem with a new Lane Bryant commercial that promotes their lingerie line. Apparently when attached to "plus-sized" women, rather than surgically enhanced broomsticks, ample cleavage is too racy for primetime.

What I find most ridiculous about the story is that ABC refused to air the spot during DANCING WITH THE STARS. If you're not familiar with the show, let me tell you, it is positively skanktastic. And this season Pamela Anderson is taking sex on the dancefloor to a whole new level. She looks like she wants to jump her partner AT ALL TIMES. And I think I saw her humping Kate Gosselin at the results show last night.

Although I did hear on some entertainment TV show yesterday that the show producers are making the effort to convince Pamela to wear underwear during live performances.



Ew.

But if ABC's weak attempt to cool off Pamela is tempting you to forgive the double standard they inflicted on Lane Bryant, allow me to share some photos from their "Sexy Dance Moments" gallery:



Seriously ABC, after you manage to whore out sweet little rejected bachelorette Melissa, you can no longer play the morality card. And I don't think there's a protecting-viewers-from-what-women-actually-look-like card.

Who says feminists have no sense of humor?

At best, they're part of a backlash against the metrosexual male; at worst, they're part of the backlash against the empowered female. Either way, ad campaigns like Dockers' "Wear the Pants" and Burger King's "I Am Man" are undoubtedly irritating to those who have stepped out of the cave. But there is a silver lining - when they inspire hilarious backlashes of their own (forwardlash?). Check out the "Woman's Last Stand" response to Dodge's Superbowl commercial:

*Shout out to ad broad - where I discovered this video.

One flew over the feminist's nest

Holy F. Could One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest be any more sexist? Why do I keep reading these creepy "classics"?? Okay, I get it - the book was published in 1962, and it was sooo groundbreaking in other ways (read all about it in this glowing Wikipedia review). But couldn't it just have pointed out societal problems without blaming them all on the female gender?

Well, I guess that's an overstatement - author Ken Kesey doesn't even give women that much credit. The tyrannical Nurse Ratched is simply a "high-ranking official," a wily instrument of the all-powerful Combine. What better way to keep troublemakers in check than to control them with the lesser sex, to emasculate them?

A discussion of the nurse's "therapeutic" technique on her mental patients:

Harding: "Miss Ratched may be a strict middle-aged lady, but she's not some kind of giant monster of the poultry clan, bent on sadistically pecking out our eyes. You can't believe that of her, can you?"

McMurphy: "No, buddy, not that. She ain't peckin' at your eyes. That's not what she's peckin' at."

In case you can't stretch to gather what the story's hero is getting at, Kesey elaborates via his narrator, Chief Bromden: "Harding flinches, and I see his hands begin to creep out from between his knees like white spiders from between two moss-covered tree limbs, up the limbs toward the joining of the trunk."

Still not sure what's being alluded to here? In his signature style, Kesey hits you over the head.

Harding: "Not our eyes? ... Pray, then, where is Miss Ratched pecking, my friend?"

McMurphy: "At your balls, buddy, at your everlovin' balls."

Later, Harding explaining a lobotomy: "Yes; chopping away the brain. Frontal-lobe castration. I guess if she can't cut below the belt she'll do it above the eyes."

Wikipedia claimed the novel "subtly" critiques the emasculation of men in society. I just edited that word out - and added a missing comma.

Blame for Billy Bibbit's stutter? His overbearing mother. His death? The evil nurse, of course.

Blame for the demise of Chief Bromden's father and tribe? His white mother, who gave his father her name, instead of the other way around - and a female government worker, who reminds Bromden of Nurse Ratched as he remembers her visit from his childhood.

Blame for McMurphy's troublesome sexual appetite (charged with, but never convicted of statutory rape...)? A nine-year-old girl who "drug" him to bed - his first "little whore."

Racism permeates the novel as well, but it's the characters who exhibit the characteristic, an unfortunate way of life. Sexism, on the other hand, spews out of the author - as a warranted, even admirable way to live.

Hillary's Hair, oh and some rape epidemic

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

I first saw the story about Hillary Clinton "snapping" at a college student's question in Kinshasa, Congo on the Today Show, and was uber-annoyed with NBC News Chief Foreign Affairs Correspondent Andrea Mitchell's commentary, at one point saying, "She was exhausted and clearly, some would say, having a had hair day (chuckle)." She then goes on to mention that Clinton was supposed to be dealing with "really serious stuff" in Congo, such as "women who are being used as weapons of war," but had been fielding questions about her husband and his secret mission in North Korea. Thanks, Andrea, for shedding light on the important issues - after, of course, getting a crack in about the secretary of state's hairdo. Sigh.

I became even more annoyed, however, when I found the story on MSNBC's Web site. Here's the lead:

"Hillary Clinton has a message for the world: It's not all about Bill.

The secretary of state bristled Monday when — as she heard it — a Congolese university student asked what her husband thought about an international financial matter."

As she heard it?? Watch the video. Or scroll down - way down - to the 11th paragraph of the article, where the State Department's translation of the student's question is quoted:

"Thank you. Mrs. Clinton, we’ve all heard about the Chinese contracts in this country. The interference is from the World Bank against this contract. What does Mr. Clinton think through the mouth of Mrs. Clinton and what does Mr. Mutombo think on this situation? Thank you very much."

Later the student told Clinton he had meant to ask what President Obama thought, not President Clinton. So maybe the student misspoke, or maybe the translator screwed up, but one thing should be clear: Hillary may have lost her cool, but she did not misunderstand - she did not, as the MSNBC article implies, twist the question in her mind in some kind of "Marsha Marsha Marsha!" moment.

But of course using this blip as a lead-in to a saucy story about the Clintons' marital problems sells more ads than a story about real issues, like the one the Today Show somewhat alluded to. A (sincere) thanks to Jezebel.com, which lead me to this Washington Post article about how a U.S.-backed Congolese military operation meant to save women from abusive rebels has exacerbated Congo's rape epidemic:

"An already staggering epidemic of rape has become markedly worse since the January deployment of tens of thousands of poorly trained, poorly paid Congolese soldiers, with people in front-line villages such as this one saying the soldiers are not so much hunting rebels as hunting women."

Almost as important to cover as Hillary's ego, and hair. Almost.

Daughter of Fortune: Worth the Wait

Even though I LOVED Isabel Allende’s House of the Spirits, I was not digging the first half of Daughter of Fortune — mostly because it reminded me of the worst, most overrated and ridiculous book ever written, also known as Love in the Time of Cholera. The “love” affair between Eliza and Joaquin Andieta gave me flashbacks of that literary waste of months of my life:

“...she wanted to die right there, pierced by the sensation, sharp and no more to be denied than a sword, that was filling her mouth with warm blood and, even before she could identify it, crushing her with the terrible weight of idealized love ... That autumn morning when she saw Joaquin Andieta in the patio of her home, Eliza thought she had met her destiny; she would be his slave forever.”

Eek. Had this been another Marquez monstrosity, I probably would have just given up, but keeping the author in mind, I plowed through the disturbing “love” scenes and was luckily rewarded when the story moved from Chile to California during the 1849 Gold Rush. Although Eliza goes to California in search of her “sweetheart,” in doing so she breaks free of her Victorian upbringing, gender constraints and eventually her deranged, overblown case of puppy love. And her transformation is illustrated by Allende’s writing, which goes from over-the-top, flowery language to tell-it-like-it-is descriptions of Wild West brutality. My favorite part:

“She fell in love with freedom. In the Sommers’ home she had lived shut up within four walls, in a stagnant atmosphere where time moved in circles and where she could barely glimpse the horizon through distorted windowpanes. She had grown up clad in the impenetrable armor of good manners and conventions, trained from girlhood to please and serve, bound by corset, routines, social norms, and fear. Fear had been her companion: fear of God and his unpredictable justice, of authority, of her adoptive parents, of illness and evil tongues, of anything unknown or different; fear of leaving the protection of her home and facing the dangers outside; fear of her own fragility as a woman, of dishonor and truth. Hers had been a sugar-coated reality built on the unspoken, on courteous silences, well-guarded secrets, order, and discipline. She had aspired to virtue but now she questioned the meaning of the word... She had left Chile with the purpose of finding her lover and becoming his slave forever, believing that was the way to extinguish her thirst to submit and her hidden wish for possession, but now she doubted that she could give up those new wings beginning to sprout on her shoulders.”

I’d like to think of Daughter of Fortune as a kind of rejection of Marquez’s twisted version of love, but One Hundred Years of Solitude is listed as one of Allende’s favorite books on the “About the author” page in the back of my edition. I suppose I’d have to read it to further investigate my theory ... and I’d rather not.

Baby it's creepy inside

So I’m totally psycho obsessed with holidays—especially Christmas (!)—and I can’t deny it… I’ve been listening to my Christmas station on Pandora for a couple of weeks now. Normal people get annoyed with the infiltration of Christmas merchandise and music creeping earlier and earlier into the fall every year, but I love it. Every last second of it—up until TBS stops looping A Christmas Story (can’t get enough of Ralphie!).

But my premature holiday bliss was interrupted the other day when for some reason, after all these years, I realized how creepy the song “Baby It’s Cold Outside” is.


Lyrics | - Baby It’s Cold Outside lyrics

Some of the more disturbing lines:

Unfortunate Female: The neighbors might think – Creepy Dude: Baby, it's bad out there

UF: Say, what's in this drink (um, I think it’s called Rohypnol) – CD: No cabs to be had out there

UF: I wish I knew how – CD: Your eyes are like starlight now

UF: To break this spell – CD: I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell

UF: I ought to say no, no, no, sir – CD: Mind if I move a little closer (ah yes, moving closer is exactly what you do when you hear “no.”)

UF: At least I'm gonna say that I tried (Oh jeez…) – CD: What's the sense in hurting my pride

UF: I really can't stay – CD: Baby don't hold out (Ick!)

And he keeps pushing…

UF: I simply must go – CD: Baby, it's cold outside

UF: The answer is no – CD: Ooh baby, it's cold outside

…

UF: My sister will be suspicious – CD: Man, your lips look so delicious

UF: My brother will be there at the door – CD: Waves upon a tropical shore

UF: My maiden aunt's mind is vicious – CD: Gosh your lips look delicious (Uh, I think she heard that one before...)

UF: Well maybe just a half a drink more – CD: Never such a blizzard before

Um… disturbing much? And according to Wikipedia, the woman’s part is called “The Mouse,” and the man’s part is called “The Wolf.” Double ick! Now, I realize the song was written in 1944, when norms regarding female sexuality (or rather, lack thereof) really lent themselves to miscommunication and/or date rape, but while I find most old-school holiday songs to be quite quaint and warm and fuzzy, I think this particular throwback should be retired.