4.5 stars rounded up
"I devoted a monumental amount of energy to this endeavor - thinking about food, resisting food, observing other people's relationships with food, anticipating my own paltry indulgences in food - and this narrowed, specific, driven rigidity made me feel supremely safe: one concern, one feeling, everything else just background noise."
"And at every turn - on billboards, magazine covers, in ads - men are surrounded by images of offering, of breasts and parted lips and the sultry gazes of constant availability: take me, you are entitled, I exist to please you. For all the expansion of opportunity in women's lives, there is no such effort on behalf of female appetite, there are no comparable images of service and availability, there is no baseline expectation that a legion of others will rush forward to meet our needs or satisfy our hungers. The striving, self-oriented man is adapted to, cut slack, his transgressions and inadequacies explained and forgiven."
"What an extraordinary sensation: anorexia, the most profound form of antagonism toward body and self, experienced as pride."
"In the prevailing view...'normalcy can be easily summarized: men and women are the same and they're all men.'"
"I remember grieving anorexia quite distinctly, weeping over the loss of that predictable futile safety, which was really a way of weeping over the self, the poor scared self who needed that safety and felt there was no other way to attain it." :c
"The therapist asked, What did it protect you from? That, I answered, meaning: that very emptiness, that very level of despair and disappointment, those tears, which always managed to be unwept, denied, starved away. In a word: sorrow."
"Something is missing: that's as close as I can come to naming the sensation, an awareness of missed or thwarted connections, or of a great hollowness left where something lovely and solid used to be. This, I think, is the coarse grit at the bottom of the ocean, the floor beneath appetite's sea: simple human sorrow."
"They weep because the men in their lives so often seem incapable of speaking the language of intimacy, and because their children grow up and become distant, and because they are expected to acquiesce to this distance, and because they live lives of chronically lowered expectations and chronic adjustment to the world of men, the power and strength of a woman's emotions considered pathological or hysterical or sloppy, her interest in connection considered trivial, her core being never quite seen or known or fully appreciated, her true self out of alignment with so much that is valued and recognized and worshipped in the world around her, her love, in a word, unrequited.
"She had to learn, too, that she could feel good physically by herself, that pleasure could originate within her own body, that her own desire did not depend on male desire for its satisfaction."
"I'm still prone to periods of isolation, still more fearful of the world out there and more averse to please and risk than I'd like to be; I still direct more energy toward controlling and minimizing appetites than toward indulging them; I am one of the least spontaneous people I know."
"I thought about my sister, whose body had just delivered this new life and was now prepared to feed and soothe it, and I thought about women and their bodies in general, about how much of us view the body as an enemy and a locus of shame instead of a blessing or a gift, about the despair and loathing that greets so many of us as we wake to the feel and sight of our own hips and thighs and breasts, about the extent to which the astonishing capacities of those bodies are minimized, forgotten, disregarded, turned into sources of the most cruel contempt."