trash cake?
A perfect example of the stereotype that eating at all means you will DEVOUR THE WORLD: the commercial for Special K Protein Water. I can’t look on Youtube for it – my computer doesn’t play videos, as it is ancient and craptastic – but the ad goes something like this:
Woman of slim size enters an office breakroom. It’s after hours, and the custodial staff is cleaning (there’s possibly some hinky racial stuff here, but I wasn’t playing close enough attention). The voiceover says something along the lines of “You’re working late, you want dinner, and you’re thinking of going… there.” And the camera goes to the trash can, atop which rests a slice of birthday cake on a paper plate. Blah blah, Special K protein water helps “take the edge off,” woman resists temptation.
Now, I am a slob. I follow the five-second rule on occasion. And I’ve been known to eat some pretty gross stuff when bingeing. But I have never, in my entire life, eaten cake from a trash can. It would never occur to me to go trash-diving for food. I might think it was weird that the cake was trashed rather than someone bringing it home, but I wouldn’t consider eating it. And I would bet that the majority of people, excepting those with serious eating disorders or other disordered behaviors, have never been tempted by a piece of cake in the trash either. And yet this was considered to be an awesome marketing technique by enough people that the concept was made into a nationally aired commercial. A nationally aired commercial about TRASH CAKE.
This reminds me of those “dirt cup” desserts that we had in elementary school. Chocolate pudding, crushed Oreos to look like dirt, gummy worms for garnish. So what would trash cake be? The same thing but served in a 55-gallon trash can?
fat slut?
“Fat Slut” you said
What luck I said
To be stuck in your happy family
Don’t you dare I said
Judge me – You go and
Stick It In Somewhere
I’m Sick-a hearin’ it
Go Stick It In Somewhere
I’m Sick-a hearing it
- “Fat Slut,” Tori Amos
I’m Nomie. I’m a graduate student in the northeast United States. I am 5′4″ in my sneakers and somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 pounds as of my last scale check. I’m not actually a slut – I’m single and have never knocked boots – but I love this brief snippet of a song by Tori Amos, and thought it was the perfect title for a blog that will focus on my personal ramblings about fat, body acceptance, and feminist issues.
