Who says what?

Novelist, mother, minister, and yoga teacher muses on books, babies, motherhood, and what matters with reverent humor.

Friday, February 6, 2009


Like every other reasonable person on the planet, I love Oprah. She is a modern day goddess, of which we have far too few. For some, she has outpaced God in both power and petition-granting magic. Beyond all that--her ability to make a book a bestseller, sell anything, bring an audience to it's knees with applause--she is quite lovely. Oh, and obsessed with being fat.

Last month, I almost fell over in the grocery store when I noticed that Oprah had, in fact, put someone other than herself on the cover of her magazine. On second glance, I realized this was not so. Now, instead of one Oprah, there were two. A before and after picture, only in reverse. The thin Oprah of before, the plumper Oprah of, well, of now.

Why do I care about Oprah? Because I have a daughter. I am raising a girl in a skinny girl world, and woe onto her. There have already been comments that it's appropriate for her to be thinner than her brother (who was a hugely fat baby) because she is, you know, a girl.

Come on, people! Have we entered the new millennium? Oprah is gorgeous. She's got a school in Africa, a dynasty in the US. She has more genius in her little finger than I've got in my whole left brain. Why, oh why, is she still obsessed with the size of her thighs? Okay, it's fine not to be so overweight that you have ginormous health problems, but a little plumpo never hurt anyone. And as far as I know, yo-yo dieting is worse for you than carrying 15 extra pounds your whole life.

Oprah just needs to realize what we all already know. We don't care how much she weighs. We love her fat. We love her as she is. Her power, her beauty and might cannot be altered, mitigated, or damaged by the size of her body. (Oh, poor body, all it goes through in a day!) Oprah, Oprah, do it for our daughters! Love yourself as much as we love you, and then leave well enough alone.