When I like a book so much, I run into the age-old problem of not being able to put into words just how much I like it, besides saying, “I liked it so much!”  The only way it can be described is that the book is just so full of goodness and truth (observations into her own life regarding body image, judgement, harassment, everyday sexism, being a crazy person in relationships, all of which 100% mirror my own) that a summary would only fail to capture the feelings, the right ons, the “yes, I feel that way, toos!”

Here is just a nibble of what provoked my imagination:

• Shaming others does nothing to inspire change; it creates stagnation.

• Marching in an anti-Trump rally this weekend in Chicago, we chanted, “My Body, My Choice.”  After reading West’s book, this took on an entirely new meaning.  “My body” doesn’t limit itself to reproductive rights, but the “body” itself.  Your choice to embrace your body: an aging body, an any-sized body, a disabled body, a tall body, an acne filled body (check and check).  In total, it’s no one’s business what the fuck you look like, and we need to stop judging each others bodies because we don’t want people judging our own.

• This book is laugh out loud funny.  Like, really funny.  We all need post-election moments of distraction, and this made me laugh for the first time in a looong time.

• Commenting on people’s weight out of “concern” is fat shaming.  You’re not concerned, their body sizes don’t conform to your idea of beauty, and that makes you feel weird.

• West talks a lot about “being fat,” and this flooded me with several insights into my own life:
  • I have judged others.
  • I have been extremely insensitive to those with body types larger than mine (“I look so fat today!” I’m a size 8.  To myself: gurl, please.  And no, shhhhh…).
  • The talk surrounding weight is a sticky, icky trap.  Especially in the workplace, talking about others weight is one of the most pervasive:
    • “Wow, she looks like she’s lost weight!”
    • “I don’t remember her being so big.”
    • “Did you lose weight?”
    • “You look so skinny!”
    • “Your desk looks like a buffet!” (Hey, I like variety.)

These sentiments are made on a daily basis, and they are damaging.  So on the days where you don’t “compliment” me on my weight, do I look “fat,” also meaning, bad?  When she looks like, “she’s lost weight,” does that make her more beautiful now?

• Probably one of the most genius quotes in literature to date:

    “…when you hit puberty you don’t magically blossom into a woman…only now once a month hot brown blood just glops and glops out of your private area like a broken Slurpee machine.”

• Hearing her encounters with male comics, their subsequent minion trolls and their relentless defense of rape culture, sexism and racism made me feel incredibly despondent and also gave me so much respect for her and those who aim to disrupt the status quo.  Calling out sexism, for example, is extremely daunting because it’s a constant uphill battle because it challenges the very fabric on which our culture is built upon, and when people are faced with change, or an accusation that they are upholding inequality, oftentimes they’d rather push you in front of a bus than work through their shit.  And I get it, in a “post-Trump world,” I’m dealing with my own issues of being a crappy feminist to a lot of other women.  The growing pains suck, but are necessary.

• I listened to the audiobook and the woman has the voice of an angel.  All we need to do is pair her buttery voice (insert Linda Richman here, “it’s like buttah!” with Milton’s Paradise Lost and I’d fall asleep like a damn baby in about five seconds.

My one complaint: that the book had to end and I hope she writes another.  Soon.

Readalikes:
Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay
Meaty: Essays by Samantha Irby
Yes, Please! by Amy Poehler
You Can’t Touch My Hair by Phoebe Robinson
You’ll Grow Out of It by Jessi Klein