{"id":31645,"date":"2012-05-15T16:03:46","date_gmt":"2012-05-15T20:03:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=31645"},"modified":"2015-05-15T12:17:14","modified_gmt":"2015-05-15T16:17:14","slug":"dear-betty-draper-francis-stop-weighing-your-food","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2012\/05\/15\/dear-betty-draper-francis-stop-weighing-your-food\/","title":{"rendered":"Dear Betty Draper Francis, Stop Weighing Your Food"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/04\/ashtray.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-29009\" title=\"ashtray\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/04\/ashtray-300x200.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"200\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/04\/ashtray-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/04\/ashtray.jpg 571w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a>Dear Betty Draper Francis,<\/p>\n<p>As I write this I\u2019m live-streaming President Barack Obama\u2019s Barnard College commencement speech on my laptop.<\/p>\n<p>What\u2019s a laptop? Imagine a typewriter that\u2019s also a Sears catalogue that\u2019s also a post office that\u2019s also a high school yearbook. Oh, and in the dark before dawn, when the wind howls like a pack of rabid Dire Wolves and thunder claps like a thousand canon balls colliding in the ether, you can log on and look at pictures of cats wearing Halloween costumes.<\/p>\n<p>As for Obama, it\u2019s true: he\u2019s of African descent. More importantly, he\u2019s brilliant and beautiful and a supporter of gay marriage. I wish you were with me, Betty, watching the president tell the women of tomorrow that, yes, you can close the gap between life as it is and life as you want it to be. <!--more--><\/p>\n<p>Because, that\u2019s your problem, isn\u2019t it? You were born with a perfect face\u2014the angels architected your cheekbones\u2014and it didn\u2019t seem far-fetched for the world around you to conform to this standard of beauty. You giggled at Bryn Mawr, then modeled in Italy, then met and married the seemingly ideal man, an ad writer with his own set of divinely crafted facial features.<\/p>\n<p>But beauty\u2019s a facade, Betty, and beneath the skin your heart is as fragile as anyone&#8217;s. Last night I felt sorry for you. You were so fucking sad, weighing those cheddar cubes on your kitchen scale as if destiny could be measured in ounces and yours was to suffer in starvation. If only you could hear Obama, read Jeanette Winterson, watch <em>Paula Deen\u2019s Home Cooking<\/em>, and throw that goddamn scale out the window, because you\u2019ve already lost like thirty pounds since the fat suit, and the problem is carbs and simple sugars anyway.<\/p>\n<p>Truthfully, Bets, although things are better, there\u2019s a lot that hasn\u2019t changed. America\u2019s twin obsessions are still weight loss and redemptive makeovers; obsessions so deeply ingrained that even a classy show like <em>Mad Men<\/em> must cater to the populist audience. It\u2019s not your fault: that Weight Watchers subplot is just a ploy to boost ratings.<\/p>\n<p>A thing I\u2019ve learned from watching <em>Biggest Loser<\/em> is that one must suffer endless public humiliation before finally shedding the weight of her history and wearing that slim-cut bathing suit. But you don\u2019t do well with humiliation, and really, how often do you even get to wear a bathing suit?<\/p>\n<p>So I beg you, Betty, to realize that you\u2019re better than all that, that you mustn\u2019t stoop so low. Like last night when you tried to sabotage Don\u2019s marriage just because you saw Megan getting dressed and she looked good in a bra. Megan\u2019s misery will come on its own, don\u2019t you worry. Besides, you have a husband who actually loves you, and two of your three kids could still turn out okay.<\/p>\n<p>This week <em>Time<\/em> magazine featured on its cover a graphic photo of a three-year-old getting to second base with his Pilates-toned mother. It made me think about you, Betty, and how at least no one could ever accuse you of coddling. And you know what? That kid will be <em>way <\/em>more fucked up than Sally. Not from the act itself\u2014more kids could benefit from breastfeeding, if you believe the studies\u2014but from the publicity.<\/p>\n<p>So maybe it actually was better back than, before Facebook and gossip blogs and reality TV, when people like you at least had the dignity of suffering in secret, away from the mocking eyes of the American public. But then on Sunday I read this piece in the <em>New York Times Magazine <\/em>about diagnosing psychopathic children by testing their levels of callousness, and I had another burst of insight and thought, Holy Fucking Shit, Sally Draper is going to murder her siblings in their sleep and then kill you and Don and probably about a hundred other people and eat their bodies before finally getting caught, at which point there will be a show on Bravo that documents her life in prison.<\/p>\n<p>In her brilliant new graphic memoir, <em>Are You Mother<\/em>, Alison Bechdel discusses the psychologist Donald Winnicott\u2019s theory of the \u201cGood Enough Mother.\u201d As far as I understand it, Winnicott thought it was okay for mothers not to be perfect, as long as they don\u2019t let their kids starve to death. Bechdel\u2019s own mother reminds me of you, Bets. She didn\u2019t hug, or say \u201cI love you,\u201d or embrace her daughter\u2019s sexuality. But she didn\u2019t let her starve, and she did answer her phone calls, and in the end, their relationship might be sort of fucked, but after a lot of therapy Bechdel seems to be doing alright.<\/p>\n<p>And so even though you won\u2019t win awards for parenting, I urge you Betty\u2014for the good of your neighbors\u2014to try to be a \u201cgood enough\u201d mother to Sally. I see you already got her a more appropriate nightgown\u2014that\u2019s a start.<\/p>\n<p>Cheer Up Old Friend,<\/p>\n<p>Adam<\/p>\n<p>P.S. My friend <a href=\"http:\/\/nymag.com\/author\/rachel%20shukert\/\">Rachel<\/a> wanted me to remind you that scotch has no carbs.<\/p>\n<p><em>Adam Wilson is the author of <\/em><a href=\"http:\/\/www.google.com\/url?sa=t&amp;rct=j&amp;q=&amp;esrc=s&amp;source=web&amp;cd=2&amp;ved=0CHQQFjAB&amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.goodreads.com%2Fbook%2Fshow%2F12253074-flatscreen&amp;ei=ZZqyT4iXIOLf6QGPq_SNCQ&amp;usg=AFQjCNF9_j_B4zM16VUNzrSR4fzix3K_rw&amp;sig2=wZa8RvLifFJi3gHx3VQ0sA\">Flatscreen.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Dear Betty Draper Francis, As I write this I\u2019m live-streaming President Barack Obama\u2019s Barnard College commencement speech on my laptop. What\u2019s a laptop? Imagine a typewriter that\u2019s also a Sears catalogue that\u2019s also a post office that\u2019s also a high school yearbook. Oh, and in the dark before dawn, when the wind howls like a [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":40,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1160],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-31645","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-on-television"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Dear Betty Draper Francis, Stop Weighing Your Food by Adam Wilson<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"May 15, 2012 \u2013 Dear Betty Draper Francis, As I write this I\u2019m live-streaming President Barack Obama\u2019s Barnard College commencement speech on my laptop. 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