I’ve begun referring to myself as “Child.” Only within my own mind, mind you. Never out loud.
I’m not sure when I started or why, but I think it’s been helpful.
Simple.
Will you please just take a shower, for me, Child? I know you don’t want to, but will you please just do it?
You can reach out to just one friend, Child. Just send one text. I’m sure they’d like to hear from you.
Slow down, Child! Make sure you taste your food/see that sunset/breathe/smell the rain.
The voice that calls me “Child” sounds like a patient grandmother talking to me. Sometimes, she calls me “My Child” or “My Love.”
Most of what I grandmother myself about is basic habits. My habits got really bad while I was depressed. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that I needed prompting to get myself to shower.
I was never not functional – never showed up to work without looking (mostly) professional. I’ve been a good lawyer.
But I have needed prompting to go to the grocery store – as opposed to ordering a weeks’ worth of delivery (Indian food, Mexican, pizza…)
I have needed prompting to get off the couch. Go for a run. Do some yoga. Walk your little dog. She can’t walk herself, Child.
Prompting to read, write, pray, journal, go to church.
Do yoga.
Do the dishes. Plan meals. Go to the grocery store. Peel sweet potatoes.
Ramen is okay, Love, every now and then, but it’s not proper for every meal, regardless of whether you put broccoli in it or not. You love food. You enjoy eating other things, if you’d just try. Cook a new recipe. Find a new recipe.
Try.
Try a new show on tv. Or a new movie. Go to a movie. Go to a coffee shop. A book shop. Go for a drive.
Plan a vacation. Just something in Arizona. Go somewhere new. You’ll have fun.
You love ComiCon. Buy tickets to ComiCon. Invite someone to go with you.
A quote from Les Miserables explains my depression quite well:
“One declines, descends, trickles away, even crumbles away, and yet is hardly conscious of it one’s self. It always ends, it is true, in an awakening, but the awakening is tardy. In the meantime, it seems as though we held ourselves neutral in the game which is going on between our happiness and our unhappiness. We are the stake, and we look on the game with indifference.”
Depression isn’t really sadness at all. Now that I’ve experienced it, it makes no sense to me when people talk about this or that being depressing. What they really mean is that this or that is sad… unless they mean it’s something that tends to make you feel as if nothing matters. As if we’re all headed nowhere in this life. We all live, breathe, eat, sleep, die. And really, as Captain Hook said, “Death is the only adventure.” So, we just need to wait it out. Just wait. That’s all.
I didn’t really have much insight into my depression for at least the first few years, and I think that’s because, depression is not unreasonable. It’s based on a few things that are very, very true. It just excludes a much vaster collection of things that are also true. It excludes all of the positive truths. Or, perhaps it minimizes them.
Depression never told me that kindness didn’t exist. It just told me that it ultimately doesn’t lead anywhere. Sure, be kind to others. Certainly don’t be unkind to others. But, in the end, the bigger picture is so broad and wide that kindnesses just blend into the dead end panorama.
Again, we turn to Les Miserables:
“Children accept joy and happiness instantly and familiarly, being themselves by nature joy and happiness.”
No need to go to war with joy, Child. You are, by nature, joy and happiness. That is true.
It’s going to monsoon today, Child. Look at the sky. Isn’t it beautiful? I know how much you love a desert storm. True.
It’s been quite a while since you’ve written, My Child. You’ve got the time for a blog post. Writing would do you some good.
Your feet have done well the past couple of weeks. Maybe you should go for a short run? Better get moving if you want to beat the storm.
I’ve had some great boons at work lately, one of which being a lateral move to the Special Victims Unit, which means that many of the victims in my cases are now children. In the few months since I made the shift, children have seemed more vulnerable and more beautiful to me. More noteworthy.
Really, life is best when its approached in the way of children. Basic. Hedonistic. Curious. Open. Accepting of joy. Used to being prompted by their grandmothers to do things.
There will be fireworks soon and your little dogs will be scared. They need you to keep them calm. Better get those dishes done soon, Child, so you can be fully present once the booms and bright twinkles consume the space around you.
I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness. I had a pretty unhealthy thing happen that effed with my head and I’m trying to put my heart right about it.
I grew up with a lot of unforgiveness around me. Minor infractions were blown out of proportion. They were treated the way I might expect it to be treated if I had tried to use heroin in the parking lot of a police substation. Unintentional slights were brought up in every argument for years and years and years. It was a constant, ongoing record of wrongs. It was, “You’re a bad Christian because you left your laundry in the dryer,” or, “I’ve bought everyone in the house a copy of this book since you had the audacity to touch my copy of it. Now no one has any reason to touch my book.”
So when I really started experiencing the gospel… not just knowing what it was, reading it, or being able to recite it… really experiencing what it feels like for my sins to be as far from me as the East is from the West… it truly pierced my heart. I felt and still feel an elegant pain when I think about it. It hurts to acknowledge the unmerited grace I have received and constantly need.
Since first feeling that pierced heart, I’ve tried to be really, really intentional about grace. There are a lot of aspects of Christian faith that seem fluid or flexible to me. Doctrines that I’m not sure about. Doubts that I have. Grace is not negotiable to me. It is the core of Christianity. It is the foundation. It is Christianity.
I’ve tried to become quicker and quicker each year to forgive. I want to let go of grudges. Forget wrongs. Move on, especially when I can see an eagerness or even just a slight desire for being at peace in the other person. I don’t think they need to apologize or take responsibility for anything. I think it’s right for me to just forgive them.
Years ago, I copied down a Paul Tripp quote that went something like, “No one gives grace better than someone who knows she needs it.”
I try really hard to know I need grace.
So, a few months back, I messed up and sent an unintentionally, but decidedly rude text. I talked to the recipient of the text, heard what they thought I had meant by the text, tried to convey what I actually had meant by it, and I apologized.
But this person just couldn’t seem to let it go. There was a period of this person not talking to me at all. I asked them to get coffee and we tried to hash it out.
I finally was like, “Hey, have you forgiven me for the text?’
There was a really long explanation of why the text would not be forgotten, but the person didn’t say whether I was forgiven or not.
I tried to express concern that I didn’t want the text to be brought up again and again in future and unrelated conflicts. I was hoping we could move on from it.
The other person repeated a bunch of things about the text not being forgotten.
I asked again if I was forgiven and was essentially told that I was forgiven, but the text wasn’t forgotten.
And it didn’t sit right with me. It just felt like, “Come on. It was a text – like, really? You’re threatening to remember a careless text I sent you? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
To be clear, the text definitely expressed annoyance at something I should not have been annoyed about and it included some things that I mentioned, but really should have fully explained. It was also based on something I thought was true that wasn’t true at all. It was a careless, but not malicious or threatening text, so I really didn’t understand how a Christian could possibly think the way to handle this was to tell me they intended to hold onto the text… keep it for later use.
I started trying to explain why I would hope that forgiveness meant something different than that…
And then the person interrupted me and accused of being self-righteous.
And… I don’t know.
I don’t want to be the jerk who just ignores it when someone criticizes me. Obviously, the context of the criticism matters. We were in the middle of an argument, so I have my doubts as to whether there was any good motive behind calling me self-righteous. It doesn’t seem like it was meant for my edification. It seems like it was probably said to stop me from explaining what I think the gospel is.
However, maybe I am self-righteous about what I believe grace is. I certainly don’t want to be self-righteous. Admittedly, I feel a lot of frustration and judgment at this thing where Christians think they are allowed to say they’re forgiving someone and then secretly (or, in this case, openly) hold onto anger and judgment. I’m obviously judging the anger and judgment…
Maybe it’s also a thing where I shouldn’t feel entitled to undiluted forgiveness? I’m the one who sent the rude text. Maybe it’s self-righteous not to focus on my wrong and let this person remember whatever the hell they want to remember?
It’s just, forgiveness, to me inherently cannot be “forgiving but not forgetting.” That kind of “forgiveness” feels counterfeit and dangerous to me… it feels like just enough of the gospel to inoculate a person from ever truly being pierced by it.
I stand by my belief that true forgiveness is as far as the east is from the west. I don’t know if I’m self-righteous about it and I guess I will marinate on that for a few years… But what is this life even about if not trying to be generous with offering grace to others… as if we know we, ourselves, need it?
People have said frustrating things to me about my issues with the church. It’s been similar to the things people used to say to me about dating: “You’re being too picky.” “No church is perfect, so you have to accept some of the things you don’t like.” And, you know, they would give me that look… like they felt I was very misguided and were sorry for me – pitied me.
But, you know, I genuinely believe it’s right not to settle. Both in my searches for church and partner.
I’m sorry, but I was never going to be happy at a church that owns and uses a snow machine in the desert. I wasn’t going to fit anywhere that women only work in the nursery and answer the phones. I really don’t benefit from sermons about strengthening marriages, and, to be frank, I think those sermons do more harm than good, so let’s avoid those as much as possible. What’s really great is when sermons are about the Bible and Jesus. I don’t care all that much about the quality of a church’s music. It is quite important to me that my church care for the community in tangible ways. Thus, I kind of have to be somewhere that has vibrant ministries. And not just any sort of ministries… the sort that aren’t easy or sterile. I need to be at a church that’s willing to get its hands dirty.
Aren’t those fair things to want from the church?
I get the feeling most people’s expectations of the church are way too low. Perhaps they just want to have some polite friendships, hear a pleasant little sermon, sing songs, and be home in time for lunch. The end.
I don’t know… am I missing it? Isn’t the Church supposed to be more than that? Isn’t she supposed to be SO MUCH MORE?
Some time ago, Amy the Dentist told me about a church she and her husband were going to try out. My mom and I went there and we thought it was good. We didn’t immediately start going every weekend or anything, but we each sort of went sporadically and it grew on us.
It’s an Oro Valley church, which means a certain amount of affluence and age. Also, not a lot of ethnic diversity. Honestly, if you’d asked me if it was the sort of church I would grow to love based on that profile, I would have said a pretty confident “no.”
But… they’ve been working on starting up a ministry to help people leaving incarceration to transition back into the community. You know… giving them cell phones that connect to the internet. Practical things like that. Obviously, I really love this sort of ministry; it’s right up my alley.
Also… the sermons are, you know, based in the Bible. The only time I’ve heard the pastor switch translations was to read one specific passage out of the First Nations Translation because he thought it was beautiful. And, okay, my love language is books, I’m especially drawn to pastors who read and talk about books, which this pastor does. And… FIRST NATIONS TRANSLATION?! I didn’t honestly know that’s a thing, but I went out and bought one pretty soon after hearing Pastor Sam talk about it.
Also, he’s not the only preaching pastor. He definitely does the heavy lifting, but every-now-and-then, they have the other pastor preach, and SHE is great. That’s right, there’s a nice feminism thing happening. It’s not ostentatious feminism, which I can’t abide, but it’s an intelligent feminism, supported by the Bible. Sam points out things I never noticed in passages I’ve read a ton of times… about women in the Bible preaching. It’s so, so wonderful.
So… I’m pretty happy. I feel cautiously optimistic that God has placed me. I’m not joining a small group just yet, but I may attend some events in addition to the Sunday morning stuff, and we’ll see what happens. For now, I’m just glad I didn’t settle for the snow machine. 🙂
Back in 2013, I was just barely still in my 20s and I was friends with a lot of 20-something men. I played video games. They played video games. It was a ton of fun to talk about gaming and geek out together.
* Note: If you know things about video games, feel free to skip this next three paragraphs…
Now, video games have a stigma to them, but really, there has been a transformation of the genre over the decades so that they have become an incredible medium for immersive stories. Sure, it’s still possible to pick up a video game that entirely lacks nuance. You can play as a plumber who is just racing around a track and shooting turtle shells at opponents. There are also many, many games where the most important aspect of the game is slaying an enemy, well, just because… why not shoot someone or something…
However, there are also so, so many games where the story is the most important feature of playing. Those have always been my jam. I have tended towards something called RPGs (Role Playing Games), where I play a character who is living out a story. There are usually cut scenes where the game stops allowing you to control the character and just gives you a cinematic experience of the story. Some of the games actually allow the player to make choices that change the story in enormous ways. Those are my favorite. I’m not a huge fan of first-person shooters, but even they have often started to err on the side of having a compelling story.
Something else that’s noteworthy is the leaps and bounds that game production has made over the years. There are now sweeping musical scores, well-known actors voicing the characters, gorgeous and complex artwork… it really is no longer the two-dimensional cartoons that were available when I was a kid.
So, back in 2013, I was a high school English teacher, and it was really important to me to help my students see how much they actually LOVE stories… often in different forms than the stories they were exposed to through mandated curricula. I made them do plot diagrams of tv commercials, dance numbers, really any narrative I could find to try to show them that story permeates our existence and that story is wonderful.
One of my friends at the time was a math teacher named Lawrence. He was far more up-to-date on video games than I have ever been. I think he actually worked at knowing what the new releases were and pre-ordering certain games. I also think he played on every gaming system that existed at the time (PC, Playstation, XBOX, Nintendo, and probably others), whereas I have only ever been an XBOX girl, so I missed out on some of the best games ever released and he did not miss many of them at all.
I keep bringing up 2013, because that was the year the first Last of Us game was released. It’s a Playstation game, so I never played it in its entirety, but Lawrence was really, REALLY into it right after it came out and had me play the opening scene once while I was at his house.
At its core, The Last of Us is a zombie apocalypse story. You can watch the actual game intro here. If you don’t want to watch the game, you can also just watch the tv show, which is mostly loyal to that opening sequence, although it does begin earlier in the day and fleshes things out quite a bit. Also, though, I’m going to describe how the intro goes as you play it…
SPOILERS: The game begins with Joel and his young teen daughter Sarah having a sweet little moment on Joel’s birthday. She fixes his watch for him as a birthday present and they joke around a little. Sarah falls asleep on the sofa and Joel carries her to bed. She is woken up to a panicked phone call from her uncle Tommy. The call gets cut off abruptly and you take control of playing Sarah. All you can do is walk downstairs, talk to your dad, and watch as your neighbor breaks through the sliding glass door. Joel shoots him and he tells you something really bad is happening. Together you run outside, where uncle Tommy meets you. You all get into a truck and try to drive out of the city. There is chaos. Helicopters. People running. Zombies. Road blocks. Tommy is driving and it’s impossible to get anywhere in the chaos. He crashes the truck and Sarah’s leg gets injured, so you take control of playing Joel. You pick Sarah up and carry her through the streets, trying to avoid the attacking zombies. Tommy helps protect you until he has to stay back to hold off a bunch of the zombies; you continue on without him. It’s terrifying, but you eventually get to the edge of the city, where you should be safe. You run into an armed military man. You talk to him and he’s (understandably) jumpy. He gets on the radio, talking about you and Sarah. He gets his orders, which appear to be to kill you both. You (Joel) start trying to tell him that neither of you are infected, but he shoots at you anyway. Sarah falls out of your arms and you are lying on the ground. He approaches and is about to kill you when Tommy catches up and kills the military man before he can kill you. You rush to get to Sarah, who has been shot. She makes these horrifying, sad sounds, and then dies in your arms.
That is the opening scene to the game.
Lawrence wanted me to play it because it was the first game that had ever made him cry.
I played a little bit beyond that opening scene, so I knew, before I watched the show, that the next scene you play is many, many years in the future (maybe a decade?) as Joel still surviving the apocalypse.
Fast forward to last year. I got real, real sick in November 2024 and needed a show to binge. The Last of Us Season 1 was on my list of shows to watch, so I went for it. And it was so, so good.
So good.
It’s one of those shows that really captured me. I felt like I knew the characters. I loved them. I empathized. The production quality was so high. It used some of the same score as the game. The acting. The writing. All of it was impressive. Aside from the quality of the production, however, I had one noteworthy thought that I’d like to share, because it’s a strange thought for this sort of show: “Oh my gosh, this is so beautiful and wholesome.”
Now, I feel like I need to clarify that a bit. There are a ton of F-bombs in The Last of Us. There is death. There is cannibalism. There is some rapey stuff. There is cult action. It is not a show I would recommend for a child to watch. That said, at it’s core, The Last of Us is the story of a dad who lost one daughter being thrust into a father role with another teenage girl.
And there is not one moment that feels icky. I hate to write it like that, but I have honestly come to expect tv and movies to only show older man/teen girl ickiness. The Last of Us isn’t that. It’s sweet. It really depicts fatherly love. Joel, as a character, has so many obvious flaws, that really get examined well at the beginning of season 2. However, his flaws are the sort of flaws a good father can still have. In a time when “America’s Dad” turned out to be such a sicko, it’s really lovely to find a wholesome story about fatherly love. Of course, The Last of Us depicts other loves as well, but so much of what viewers took from watching was a breathtaking depiction of fatherly heartache.
And fast forward to this week.
I’m sick again. I finally got Covid. For a long time there, I felt like I was a video game character, dodging the virus that infected the world… perhaps I was immune. My blood was the cure! I took pride in never having had it… but now I have it.
Honestly, Covid hasn’t been all that bad for me. Of course, it’s a different virus than the one that emerged in 2019, so I think it’s to be expected that it’s not quite so bad. Also, I have never taken a nasal decongestant before, so once I discovered Afrin, I was flying high. My symptoms were only very bad for three days. I actually only tested myself for Covid because one of the judges on the criminal bench tested positive the day before I was intending to return to work, so I thought it best to be safe. Turns out, even though my symptoms have almost completely subsided, I have Covid and have had to stay home. I’ve been pretty stir crazy, however, the best part of being at home was deciding to rewatch the 1st season of The Last of Us and then continuing on to watch season 2.
For the record, I think season 2 may actually be better than season 1??? I won’t include any more spoilers, but the emotional impact was so much. I sobbed, which was particularly gross since I already had excess snot in my nose.
A person who had played more of the game(s) would have expected the story to go where it did. I, however, did not see any of it coming.
It was great.
So…
Watch it.
I wish I had a better ending for this post, but the gist of it all is, I loved, loved, LOVED the tv adaptation of The Last of Us. Loved it.
I’m excited to write this post – it’s been a long, long time since I’ve cared enough about anything to develop an immoderate opinion that I’ve wanted to share.
So, yes, BEWARE! I have strong, strong opinions re: GLP-1s. My opinions are largely based on intuition, personal values, personal experience, and reading exactly 1 book on the topic. People who have relevant expertise are unlikely to publicly state immoderate opinions like those I hold.
There are sooooooo many attorneys I know who are taking a GLP-1.
Note: I am going to call them GLP-1s, because I’m too lazy and figure out if I’m supposed to be calling them GLP-1 agonists. Also, it’s just what people seem to be calling them.
Certainly, it’s worth thinking about the access issues embedded in the fact that I know a lot people injecting themselves. Attorneys make more money than many, many people, so they can afford to drop some dime on weight loss. My co-workers almost ALL have multiple gym memberships (one for a YMCA right next to the office) and a second for a gym that’s closer to wherever they reside. I know attorneys who wear the red-bottomed shoes, which are for a designer brand, but I honestly am not sure which one. I think they are $1000 shoes. Such shoes convey status, which is important in lawyering, as is being thin and hot. In short, I know more people who are taking GLP-1s than I probably would if I worked in a less affluent and status-driven field. Law isn’t the only field where there are lots of GLP-1s, but it is certainly near the top of the list of fields in which people would be able to afford them and really, really want them.
I’m not going to really address the issue of demand, where my slightly overweight colleagues get the meds while those who may be ARE in far greater need are unable to obtain them… that’s a REALLY important issue about which lots of people are passionate, but, for unknown reasons, it doesn’t chap my ass in the same way the other issues do. I accept it as a huge problem; it just doesn’t tug at my heart strings like other issues do.
So what does chap my ass?
Well, for starters, the Gila Monster thing.
I have lived in the desert for 33 years. Gila Monsters live here with me and we’ve literally crossed paths from time-to-time. I recall learning about them in elementary school, where the teachers scared the living daylights out of me. My recollection of the lesson was something like: “Gila Monsters have super-strong jaws and when they bite someone, they latch on and don’t let go. They also have venom that is faster-working and more deadly than rattlesnake venom. So, if you see one, stay away. Also, they are endangered, so if you harm one, you will go to jail.” Here is theWikipedia link, just in case you want to learn from a reliable source. 😊
As an adult, I definitely view Gila Monsters differently. To me, they are cute lumbering lizards. When I say lumbering, I mean they’re super slow. I’m honestly not sure if I’ve ever actually seen one walking around. I think they’ve mostly been stationary when I’ve seen them in the wild. They don’t really bother anyone. They do have a beaded look, like Wikipedia says. They do have venom, but it’s not usually deadly. They do frequently latch on when they bite. Arizona does have laws against harming them. And just so you know I really mean it, they are adorable.
Now, GLP-1s are based upon something found in Gila Monster venom. There is a whole story about a researcher sneaking a Gila Monster onto a plane. I read about it in Johann Hari’s book Magic Pill. It’s a great book that I recommend. Also, consider getting the audio book, because Johann Hari is a lovely reader.
My understanding is that GLP-1s don’t have true Gila Monster venom in them, but they use some fancy, synthesized portion of the venom. I’m not sciency, so don’t take my word for it.
Why does all of this chap my ass? Who cares? It’s not like every injection of a GLP-1 kills a Gila Monster. It’s fake venom.
It chaps my ass because it makes zero sense to me to inject Gila Monster venom into the human body. Why did they teach me to fear Gila Monster venom when I was a tiny tike, only to now suggest that it’s healthy to shoot it into my body? It honestly feels Frankinsteinian to me. Is our culture truly so warped that we think we should inject ourselves with poison? When God gave Gila Monsters venom, I somehow doubt He was like, “Hey, this will be great for human weight loss in the future.” I’m not saying He didn’t know this is what would happen. What I’m saying is that God made Gila Monster venom as a poison and we’re trying to make it into something that’s good for us.
The whole situation reminds me of Jurassic Park (the original… none of the others are valid). Jeff Goldbloom is voicing opposition to the park before the dinosaurs get loose and eat people. He says something to the effect of: “I’ll tell you what the problem here is. You were so preoccupied with whether you could that you didn’t stop to think if you should.”
Should we be injecting poison into our bodies to prevent us from eating so many calories? It’s an important question and I haven’t heard ANY of the many people I know who are taking GLP-1s discuss their thought process on this. I suspect they haven’t thought about it.
Is this something our society should do?
Now, for some people (Diabetics) GLP-1s make more sense to me. Certainly I don’t think a drug should be the first line of defense, but I can trust the healthcare professionals a bit more when it comes to Diabetics being prescribed drugs. They’ve got a life-threatening medical problem, so maybe drastic measures are called for. HOWEVER, the vast majority of people I know who are injecting themselves with this poison are not Diabetic. They are privileged, wealthy, white women who want to lose 20-30 pounds because designer clothes look better on thinner bodies. Or because self-esteem. Or because keeping up with the Kardashians. Or because some other equally vain reason that has nothing to do with health. OR they are under the impression that weight loss is always the healthiest thing that can happen to a person.
I’ve been listening to a podcast called Maintenance Phase. In it one of the hosts made a throwaway comment about how preoccupied and terrified we’ve all become of two related things: being fat and dying. We are so caught up in losing weight at all costs, that we don’t even consider the possibility that not taking poison could be healthier than taking it.
Generally, I tend to think it’s not healthy to rely on a drug for weight loss. I tend to think it not healthy to be prescribed a drug FOR LIFE. Also, are people being advised that they will need to keep taking their GLP-1 FOR LIFE? I doubt it. This isn’t a thing where you take the drug for a few months, lose the weight, then stop taking the drug and keep the weight off. This is a thing where a person was only able to lose they weight BECAUSE of the drug, so if they stop taking the drug, just as is true with every other weight loss fad in the history of mankind, they will almost certainly gain the weight back.
What also chaps my ass a whole, whole lot? Who is prescribing this ish? Are people going to their PCP, who knows them and their history, considers their whole person, and only after seeing them IRL gives them advice about whether to take the drug or not? NO. People are going onto online platforms, where they never see a real-life doctor, they fill out an online form, agree to pay, and are prescribed the drug, which arrives in the mail. People are getting GLP-1s through NOOM and Weight Watchers. They are getting it through HERS and Ro.
Are you effing kidding me? Not only are they injecting synthesized monster venom into their bodies, but doctors are signing off on this w/o ever setting eyes on them?
Come on. This cannot be real.
You know what else chaps my ass about it? The marketing to people who definitely should not be taking it. This ad, in particular, chaps my ass:
This is a dangerous, dangerous ad. It implies that this drug is for elite athletes and people who want to lose 30 pounds. With the FDA approving GLP-1s for younger and younger people, I think we’re just a small step away from teenaged athletes being prescribed GLP-1s because their coaches suggest they would perform better in their sports if they dropped a few pounds. Minors are a particularly vulnerable population, who are at-risk for abuse and misuse of these drugs. That said, many, many people lack the savviness to say no when a drug is suggested to them. Many, many people are vulnerable to manipulation that benefits Big Pharma and not individuals.
Another problem with this marketing: it’s completely gendered. It is perpetuating a toxic paradigm in which women have a duty to lose that last 30 pounds. Do men have a duty to lose 30 pounds? Who knows? They are absent from the marketing. They are not the target consumer. Who is the target consumer? A woman who already lives a healthy lifestyle and just can’t seem to drop the baby weight. Ick.
Also, I want to address the thing in this ad where they say taking GLP-1s is not a “shortcut.” Shortcut is a dumb word to use. Its negative connotation comes from the idea that there is a race and a participant in the race took a shorter route than the course permits. In short, somebody cheated. Weight loss is not a race. It’s not a competition. There is no such thing as cheating. A person does not “win” when they reach their goal weight, nor do others lose. It is not a zero-sum game. Whether it is a “shortcut” or not is not at issue here.
What is at issue is health. Is taking a GLP-1 the healthiest prescription for an overweight Olympian who recently gave birth?
Even if the answer were yes, which I don’t think it is, is taking a GLP-1 the healthiest prescription for a sedentary woman who eats garbage and is overweight? Of course not. It should not be the first line of defense. Also, I’m not convinced it should be a line of defense at all for anyone who just wants to lose 30 pounds.
The emphasis needs to be on making lifestyle changes first and foremost. “Eat food. Mostly vegetables. Not too much.” (Michael Pollan said that). Also, go for walks or runs, do your own yard work, take a yoga class, go to the gym, take a hike… aka move your body. And if you are still 30 pounds overweight… maybe you are perfectly healthy and you don’t actually need to lose that 30 pounds.
There is an idea in this ad that Serena Williams can be representative of the average new mom out there, which is absurd. Even if she struggled to lose weight, I suspect that her standard of getting back into shape should not be applied to anyone who hasn’t set effing records for Grand Slam and Olympic wins. Serena Williams is not comparable to the person to whom these drugs are being marketed.
All-in-all, this whole situation reminds me of the Hunger Games. There’s this scene in Catching Fire where Peeta and Katniss are at a party in the Capital where there is all of the luxurious food. Katniss wants to try all of it, so she takes a bite of each item and then asks Peeta to eat the rest. They both get full and other people are like, “Hey, why aren’t you eating?” They explain that they’re full. The vain Capitol people are like, “Why is that stopping you? Don’t you know those champagne glasses over there are full of vomit-inducing beverage? Grab one, go in the bathroom, and clear out your stomach so you can come back and eat more.” (That’s not a quote from the actual book – I’m paraphrasing).
So… we have created a culture where there is so, so much food. Calories are easy to come by. We have such an abundance (not true of everyone in the U.S., I know)… we have such an abundance that we are NOT ONLY purchasing and eating calories we don’t need (aka calories that are killing us), we are also spending additional money on drugs to keep us thin and probably we are throwing away the excess food that we are still buying.
It’s surreal to me. It’s an extreme mis-prioritization of values.
It strikes me as sacrificing way too much for way too little.
It strikes me as another silly fad that is damaging to individuals and society at-large. We make jokes about Ozempic face and butt, and then we go home and shoot some poison into our bodies with the hope that being thin will make us happier. People will love us more. We’ll have that perfect life. If only we could lose that last 30 pounds, our lives would finally work, right? Because no one who is at a healthy BMI is depressed, lonely, addicted, and empty.
Honestly, I view this whole thing as the most popular attempt to fill the God-shaped hole. People are not making informed decisions about their health.
When a person takes a plea agreement, a judge asks them if they’ve had any drugs or alcohol in the last 24 hours. Are they thinking clearly?
Nobody asks those questions when prescribing a drug. All that’s asked is, “How much do you weigh and how are you intending to make payment?”
Leaving LanguishLand 