Dec. 18th, 2009

jorajo: (Default)
My favorite Christmas album is the Carpenter's one. I grew up listening to it on repeat as a child and it defined everything good about the holiday for me: a warm home, a loving family, a beautiful tree, and a crapton of cookies. I'm listening to it (or parts of it) on Pandora right now and am instantly transported back to my childhood tree. My mom's in the kitchen making another round of cookies, there's a fire in the fireplace, and I've got a good book to read. It's a small reassurance at a time when my life is not at its easiest.

The point of this entry isn't to wax poetic about my childhood. It was to talk about Karen Carpenter for a second, and how awesome my mom is. She and I love Karen Carpenter. My mother always used to get a little sad at Christmas when we'd talk about Karen Carpenter, who, if you're unaware, died of heart failure after years of anorexia. My mom thought it was sad that someone so obviously gifted, someone so beautiful, could be so disgusted with herself that she would torture her body and bring about her too-early death. Then my mom would turn serious and tell me, "Don't ever do that." This was before EDs were understood as something other than a choice, and I always joked to my mom that I loved food too much. The truth is, like so many women, I haven't been diagnosed with an ED but I sure as hell participate in disordered eating. But no matter what I do, I know my mom is going to love me and I know I'm damn lucky to have that. I love you, mom.


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December 2009

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