The New York Times reports today that there are an eye-popping 245,000 copies of Posh Spice's favorite work of literature, Skinny Bitch, in print. We are sooooooooooooooo sick of hearing about Skinny Bitch. It's so brutally honest! And vegan! And the authors are so pretty! And "funny"! Look how funny they are! And counterintuitive:"Beer is for frat boys, not skinny bitches."
Spoken like someone who would wear a pink tube top -- with a hoodie pocket! -- on her author bio (after the jump). Anyhow, is it just us or did these bitches make out like bandits "exposing" the fact that "vegan" is code for "sanctimoniously anorexic"? Which anyone with the remotest experience with fucking baristas already knew??
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Here's the thing: our food supply is beyond fucked, but people who try to make their slender physiques into some sort of worldview wherein they are superior beings because they shop at fucking Whole Foods really piss us off. Don't get us wrong: we wish we were still vegetarian. We sort of credit vegan-macro dieting for limiting the spread of our dad's cancer and we feel bad about all the crap we eat because we're irresponsible drunks. BUT. Essentially books like Skinny Bitch remind us of a story of a tattooed vegan guy who was lying in bed with a friend of ours one morning when he blurted out: "Most people in the world aren't as skinny as us, you know." Which is basically the Urban Outfitters-wearing agnostic equivalent of Gwen Shamblin's message that the skinny are saved, while fat people go to Hell. When the fact is that, skinny or fat, the more emotional and intellectual energy this country invests in its body image the dumber -- AND fatter, and more self-loathing -- we get. The end.
A Diet Book Serves Up A Side Order Of Attitude [New York Times]
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