Most people who are familiar with Eva Ensler associate her with the ‘Vagina Monologues’, her Obie Award-winning play made up of a series of personal monologues, revealing various women’s experiences with, relationships and stories about the most intimate part of their bodies. Some find the ‘Vagina Monologues’ to be very positive and empowering, but they have also been subject to both conservative and feminist criticism.
Ensler is also the author of “The Good Body,” a book that presents another topic about women’s relationships with their bodies. Like the “Vagina Monologues,” The Good Body consists mostly of vignettes and monologue-like scenes—some in Ensler’s own voice, some in other real-life women who are intertwined, some made up.
I wasn’t impressed with the cover of “Good Body”, which basically consists of a simple line drawing of a female form with two scoops of ice cream (one vanilla, one chocolate) where the breasts would be. To me, such imagery connotes female power as much as female edibility. Is this an attempt to tease out the many mixed messages about women’s bodies? but it reminded me of a questionable picture of a women’s magazine shaving gel which depicts a long image with slender legs stretching to a soft cone instead they serve the body and the mouth.
Despite these misgivings with the cover design, I thought I’d really like “good body,” which focuses on body image issues (and other gender-oriented issues) in women. Having experienced some of these issues and insecurities myself, I appreciated the idea of being able to read about other women’s thoughts and feelings on such matters. I thought that reading such material would give me a sense of sympathy and perhaps even affirmation, that I was the only one who felt that my thoughts and feelings were somehow inadequate and that I was not being criticized for superficial things. What do I do?
Why do I buy into beauty standards that I know are limited, limiting, self-defeating, and insidious? After all, I am a smart, feminist woman with a lot to offer. It moves me and it bothers me so much that I allow myself to fall into this trap of feeling like I’m not enough because I don’t see enough. Why do I allow myself to feel this way? What is wrong with me? Why am I weak? And why can’t I just have perfect skin?
For me, it’s not so much the body image that pulls me down. It’s too much for my skin; My strange feelings of inferiority and even shame combine with my belief that I don’t mesh with any feminine ideal. Sometimes I feel bruised, dirty, stubble, like a lowly, disgusting, dirty, detestable creature. I know that this thought is senseless and destructive, so why can’t I easily escape from it?
I thought perhaps reading other thoughts and feelings about similar issues and similarly self-defeating ways of thinking might help me reach some clearer understanding or fruitful epiphany on this matter.
Eve Ensler writes about a feminist perspective that looks at body parts. She confessed that “Good Body” was inspired by her solidity. Some feminists argue that the variety of feminism that seems to reduce women to body parts is not the best, most empowering approach. I’m not going away. However, I think there is something positive to be said for the ability to absorb and consider other people’s experiences that are similar (or different). I think that this kind of exchange can reduce feelings of alienation and if women feel less alienated about their affairs and suspicions; if they know that they are not alone in certain ways of feeling, then perhaps such knowledge can be a catalyst for them to be more inclined to try to get to the root of certain problems and move forward with certain countermeasures or solutions. I entered my thinking into my reading experience with “The Good Body.” Although I was less than impressed with the cover design, I felt open-minded and hopeful about the book. Let us not live without great hope.
Ensler’s writing often struck me as over the top and overly dramatic. Then again, you’re a storyteller, so I guess it makes some level of story sense. Some of the theatrical content offered seemed too obvious to me, though. For example, how many times have we heard the details of how if a real woman had the proportions of a Barbie, she would be forced to crawl in all fours? I, for one, have heard a lot of precision many times and other details as well. The details that don’t seem to me are very thought-provoking, because I probably already thought about them years ago in my college degree in women’s studies. Of course, not every woman has the opportunity to participate in college-level women’s studies, so maybe I’m not quite the right demographic for such. Perhaps the particulars are indeed new and surprising to other readers.
Another personal gripe for me was the frequent use of the word “dog” in the text. They happen to be skinny and I have a pet peeve with generals around skinny women. Of course, I understand that there are more profuse and derogatory generalizations surrounding fat women. Perhaps Ensler was trying to counter anti-fat prejudice. However, even though the main Ensler-oriented question is that her tummy may be un-flat, she is well aware that not every woman’s main species is child-oriented and why would she want to alienate readers with other species-oriented things? A term like “gate dog” is very general, which seems to conflict with its supposed purpose of embracing and celebrating the individuality of many types of women. A term like “skinny dog” also sounds catty to me. Perhaps his use of this term was misinterpreted and he was trying to make some sort of subversive statement about the woman’s pettiness, but it seemed that every time “skinny dog” had something to express in the text, “skinny dog” came across. as superficial, simplistic and powerful. I don’t approve of this category, and I certainly don’t think that such features equate with thinness.
The book certainly presents some interesting perspectives, though. Here are some excerpts that resonate with me;
When with ethnically diverse groups, economically wealthy women in the United States were recently asked about one Most of these women said they would change things in their lives if they could. Perhaps I would identify with these women, because I bought into my opinion if stomach would be flat, then I would be good, and I would be safe. I would be safe. To be accepted, to be admired; love, love “
I appreciate her expressing this because it sounds kind of simple and weak, but I have experienced many women with similar thoughts and feelings. I know. Not about my kind of weight, but about other kinds. He also continues to describe shame and self-hatred;
“Perhaps because for the most part of my life I felt wronged, dirty, hurtful, and bad, and my stomach carried a bag of all self-hatred. Perhaps because my stomach became a repository for pain. The scars of my childhood, my empty ambition, my silent anger it is imperative to be better, because you are born evil and evil, and what is better always involves the use of money, a lot of money
“I could never be good. This sense of evil lives in every part of me. Call it anxiety or despair. Call it guilt or shame. It occupies me everywhere. ”
“It is as if they were given a small body called a peasant, which is used for tyranny, impurity, or to gain power, while they lose every aspect of the world.”
“It’s a crazy thing that he always thought I was beautiful, but of course it doesn’t count, I mean, he loves me.”
“So low fat, clean, as thick as you can get. so when shopping in regular thesis in plus sizes always keep in the back like porn like this thing is looking for in and sign PLUS SIZE always so huge.
“She was blonde and burning. I was dark and shaggy in the golden puppy. Eew! Eew! Here’s how she got into my litter. Whatever mother would do, clean me up, shut me up. Make me good, make me right.”
Wow, that’s a lot of low self esteem, isn’t it?
Although I can relate to something, I can’t claim to have read it as a woman. Not that everything is supposed to be positive, but part of me is tired of reading such a litany of negative thoughts.
Some of the missions are downright boring. I often read about a woman who was frustrated in her sex life because she only needed to make her husband hard. He compared this to the process of eating a lobster, where you have to crack and peel and bend and beg to finally be gratified by a thin thread of meat that doesn’t really satisfy you. So what is the solution to this dilemma? laser surgery. I’m reading this and thinking, couldn’t the husband have taken Viagra or something? Wouldn’t that have been less extreme than having the vagina surgically altered and contracted? Everyone has their own choice and in this case, this woman’s choice is to be fulfilled, at least for her husband. He was so excited by his tight virginity that he wore a new sheath as if he were a teenager again. His erectile dysfunction went away and he wanted to have sex several times a day. This could have been a good thing except that the new woman’s vagina was so tight that every single penetrative session was uncomfortable for her.
Then I read about another woman who feels like throwing up every time her partner touches her belly. At this time I feel depressed about all these women who are so terribly unhappy and dissatisfied with their bodies. There don’t seem to be any positive solutions in sight at all, so I suggest using the following:
“I live with espresso stains for the first three days. Total madness. I can’t speak, but I feel thin. Then I’m hungry. I try to write about the patriarchal paradigm of invasion, occupation; and domination, but all I can think about is pasta.”
” Well this is what I feel I just learned: To be good, I have a smile Psychopath, deprived of prescriptions, deeply involved with a Nazi trainer, numb from botulinism successfully, white. Vanilla fat sticks out, and the pussy is contracted.”
Oh dear Unfortunately, I can still relate to the thoughts and feelings, but also a part of me thinks it’s out of control. I know it’s not easy to avoid social media pressures and pressures to fit the image of a perfect and beautiful woman, even for those of us who are free to think, but maybe we could shift our focus from the bottom of our bodies. in our minds for a little while into the kingdom. Perhaps we could focus on creating our own definitions of beauty.
“The Good Body” is a fairly quick read that offers some interesting thoughts and some semi-provocative nuggets, but overall they seemed too obvious to me. I felt like I had heard most of it before, so I wasn’t surprised or stressed. Another reason she couldn’t explain it was because she didn’t offer much in the way of an in-depth analysis of the root of all these women’s self-esteem issues, nor did she offer much in the way of ideas for positive solutions.
Recognizing and de-escalating the problem can certainly be cathartic to some extent, but after a point I would like to move beyond the statement of the problem, to suggestions on how to fix it or at least transcend it.
