Book Pregnant is the very clever term coined by a group of bloggers, to indicate that stage where an author is almost ready to launch their work into the world. Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘n Roll, and a Tiara is pressing on my bladder, kicking me in the kidney… Really, I SO feel ready to pop this baby out. Except,…
Anyone else feeling of two (or more) minds about this thing? I want to be calm and compassionate and understanding. To draft a plan of reaching out to current enemies and converting them to allies. To join hands with other activists and make the world a better place. I am also furiously angry and disappointed…
I do wonder how many of the health problems of fat people can be linked to social shaming and ostracization, to self-loathing. I remember all too well the thrill during my dieting days, when the scale gave me “good news.” The widespread social approval and praise I earned by being a more “acceptable” size. And the horror and shame I felt when the numbers on the fucking scale slowly, inexorably crept upward.
When we imagine Heaven, don’t we imagine all our loved ones will be there? Would it even be Heaven if we had to choose: one child, one pet, one parent, one romantic love? One musician or rock band? And only one?
Take one stranded actress with a secret, a small town veterinarian, and add a hideously ugly dog with worse manners. In Beverly Diehl’s The Dog Days of Summer, can the sexy vet – and the dog – win Panick’s heart before Hollywood calls her home?