had i seen the blurb from bust claiming this is ~~relatable~~ i probably wouldn't've picked it up at the library. however, i did not because i pick books at random and read nothing about them, not even the back covers. it is a bad habit. if a book is bright enough or shiny enough or adjective enough, i will think to myself, hm, ok, i will try this. what can go wrong? nothing, really, except i just spent like, parts of a whole day reading stuff i would have read on tumblr in 2009. maybe i would have liked this then.
i used to think calling women writers self-indulgent was misogynist, and it definitely is sometimes, but jesus, i can only read about menstruation and lipstick so many times. i am sick of empowerment. i don't know if alida nugent actually ever uses "empowerment" anywhere in this book, but it's all the same. maybe this is an issue with me and how burned out i feel with feminism & the internet, and maybe i am being callous about some things, but i just don't care anymore. everyone writes about abortion and eating disorders and beauty in the same way, and it's boring. there's no nuance. it's not that i don't agree with these women writing these things. i don't contest anything they have to say about abortion or eating disorders or beauty (in theory, at least), but it's an echo chamber where everyone is reciting the same opinions endlessly, and i'm tired of reading it.