I poked and prodded but I didn’t have any takers. Recently, I have been submitting comments to posts on The Huffington Post, the uberblog founded by socialite Arianna Huffington. I wrote what thought were thought-provoking or downright provoking comments worthy of some sort of response. I didn’t need a written high five; I would have gladly accepted an F U B.
I did get two lame incomprehensible responses which led me to ask: Are they high? Really, are they? I began to wonder if I had lost my edge.
I didn’t have anything to fear after all because today it happened.
Thank you Star Jones. I couldn’t have done it without you.
I wrote a comment to an Associated Press report that the former co-host of The View, in a Glamour magazine first person essay, is finally admitting to having had gastric bypass surgery.
I know what you are thinking: Shut up! Are you for real?
Yes, Star Jones, the woman who asked us to ponder the age old question, “Are you going to believe me or your lying eyes?” had gone under the knife to cut the fat.
I wrote what I thought was a rather innocuous response about how Star Jones, “by not disclosing her method of weight loss” while co-host of The View had missed a “God-given opportunity to reach out and inform overweight and obese people, especially African American women, who needed to hear the truth and nothing but the truth.”
Then the slapfest — albeit brief — began. A black sistah wrote in to say that Black women had no problems with Jones keeping her method of weight loss a secret; it was white women who took issue with it.
Next, someone I believe to be a white sistah, responded by asking the woman if she had polled all the women in America to get their response to Jones’ weight loss.
It was getting good. I started to get excited. But after one more back and forth, it ended. Just I was about to break out the popcorn.
Now here is Star Jones in her own words. Excerpts from the Glamour piece:
“..I was so angry: How had I allowed myself to get to 307 pounds? I could clearly remember the days when I’d considered myself fly and curvaceous. Funny-or sad-how we “thick” girls can justify being excessively overweight. It was something I’d been doing all my life…”
“…In my home, exercise was not discouraged, but it wasn’t emphasized, either. I was a great student, but I almost failed physical education because I hated the very thought of exercise. I had never thrown a ball, run for a ball or caught a ball in my life and I wasn’t interested in trying…”
“…To compensate for my insecurities, I spoke louder and ate more: Whenever I felt lonely, a Double Whopper with cheese became my friend. If I felt sad, six strips of bacon made me feel better. Soon I was up to 225 pounds, which, when you are 5’5″ and lazy and sedentary, is neither fly nor curvaceous, but I convinced myself I was phat, not fat…”
“…We African American women are taught to be proud of our curves, full breasts and shapely hips. I used to look in the mirror and take pride in my figure, but that was when I was legitimately a full-figured woman. I’d gradually gone from full-figured to morbidly obese…”
“…My therapist helped me discover I needed the adoration of others to feel good about myself…”