1-7 “Dieting”

I recently realized that I never hated my body. I definitely parroted my mother and sisters (eight and ten years older than me), saying things like “I’m on a diet,” or “I need to lose ten pounds,” but it was never something I obsessed over. I was a chubby kid, but I had a serious bout with norovirus when I was third or fourth grade that led to substantial weight loss and a change in my perspective. In retrospect, it was around then that I started thinking critically about the expectations that were impressed upon those who were assigned female at birth.

Once I rejected “beauty myth” ideals (small-b small-m because Naomi Wolf is a wacko), I threw myself into vehement opposition of them. That is, not only did I declare that, for example, I wouldn’t wear makeup, but also that wearing makeup is traitorious to women trying to crush the patriarchy. I was toxically, oppressively, anti-feminine.

I’m happy to say that I’ve learned a lot, including that I will always have a lot to learn. My existence as AFAB but never hating my body (through various sizes and states of health), is relatively unusual, I think, and I hope to write more about it.

But this ain’t Vikki’s living room in 2020. This is 1979 mainstream media, and at Eastland, Mrs. Garrett comes home and panics when she sees Nancy on the floor groaning. Nancy, it turns out, is only getting dressed.

I do love that shirt. And oh, how I remember tight Jordache jeans and Brooke Shields. Now that I think about it, Felice Schacter, who plays Nancy, looks a lot like Brooke Shields. Also, did you know that Brooke Shields recently had a recurring role in Law & Order: SVU? She played the biological grandmother (!!) of Benson’s adopted baby.

Enter Blair, Desperately Seeking Sue Ann. Sue Ann, as one does, bounds down the stairs with a plate of cake.

Blair is delighted to report that she got Sue Ann a date with “Mr. Big.”

Ha, I wish! I am extremely attracted to Chris Noth; I have been since season one of Law & Order. I made it a point to go to his bar in NYC. I still have a matchbook from it somewhere. He is so my type.

Alas, no, Sue Ann’s date is merely with Scott Dunbar III, who only dates girls that look like they’re right out of Vogue. Therefore, Blair declares, Sue Ann had better lose some weight quick.

Obvs, Sue Ann is not fat, but I want to talk about something different.

I almost typed “Obvs, there’s nothing wrong with Sue Ann.” Which would have implied that “fat” is “wrong,” which is absolutely not true. Seeing “fat” as a descriptive term rather than a loaded one is step one to battling fatphobia. There are loads of resources all over the net discussing sizeism and hiding it under the all-too common excuse of “I’m just worried about your health.”

Your Fat Friend is a resource I’m fond of to undo a number of the myths we’ve been taught about large bodies. She’s also on Medium; here’s an essay I enjoyed recently.

Regardless, OK, let’s say that everything the concern trollers say is true – that being “fat” is “unhealthy” regardless of any other variables. Let’s say it’s true for the sake of argument.

No one is under any obligation to make health their priority. Smokers know they smoke, my ex-husband knows he eats like shit, and if a person can’t walk up a flight of stairs for whatever reason, that’s their business.

Er, back in Peekskill…

Oh god, it’s so gross. Sue Ann responds to Blair’s fat-shaming by calling Blair fat, and then they agree to resolve it by both getting on the scale.

Vomit.

The younger girls all enter together, and Mrs. Garrett joins them, showing off a dress she’s excited to have just purchased. This will be relevant later.

Sue Ann and Blair return from upstairs with the scale and invite all the girls to participate in their “thin is in” weigh-in.

You can really see here how mini Kim Fields would look if she weren’t wearing those skates. Give her a break. She’s ten here. And when little sixth-grade Tootie says she’s gonna lose a few pounds, it’s heartbreaking. Wee feminist Molly Ringwald declares that no one is going to tell her how to look!

It is Natalie, however, who delivers a line that has stayed with me, and maybe has contributed to my relative comfort with my own body.

“Who wants to be a skinny pencil? I’d rather be a happy magic marker!”

The studio audience applauds. Oh, Natalie. Just a glimpse of the greatness that’s to come.

Mrs. Garrett returns, and joins in the weigh-in. She perpetuates all that is fucked up about culture by making everyone turn around before she steps on the scale. She looks at the number and is horrified, declaring that she’s going on a diet immediately and returning the dress she just bought, because she “doesn’t deserve” it.

Man, this is some shit self-talk that people assigned female at birth (AFAB) learn from the minute they begin understanding that there are social expectations. Large bodies bad, small bodies good, and it’s your fault if you don’t fit the preferred type (a type which is rooted in cisthetero white supremacist capitalist patriarchy, by the way). And if you don’t fit the type, you’re bad, and you don’t deserve nice things, and you should be punished. Mrs. Garrett declares that she’ll buy the dress when she can fit in a 12.

Ugh, Mrs. G says the girls have inspired her, and Blair congratulates her. Natalie and Tootie stay behind while the others join Mrs. Garrett in the kitchen to turn the refrigerator toward the wall. Yuck.

Little baby Tootie suggests to Natalie that they fight flab together, and Natalie says she’s happy the way she is. Tootie gives her a judgy look and it all makes me so sad.

Our next scene opens with Mrs. G doing awkward calisthenics. Sue Ann and Nancy argue over phone usage. There’s a knock on the door and Natalie opens it to reveal the generic 80s heartthrob of the week. Predictably, I’m attracted to him. He and Natalie goof around, and when Cindy stops to give him a second look, Natalie tells her to forget it. “He’s mine,” she says. Heh. I love Natalie so much, even if this little seventh grader has no business hitting on the delivery boy, who is at least old enough to have a driver’s license.

On his way out, the cute, nameless delivery boy reaches into his European carryall and says, “Oh, I almost forgot this box of diet instant breakfast. I guess it’s for you.”

An opening credits shot, and perhaps the original “Bitch, please.”

Also, can we take a minute to talk about so-called diet products? Of course we can. We can do whatever we want; it’s my blog.

I think there’s a lingering myth to this day about “diet products,” as if you’re supposed to drop weight just by introducing these things into your diet and making no other changes. I knew people who would take the diet breakfast drink mix and have it as a drink along with their traditional Irish breakfast. Like, just because a product is “diet” or “fat free” or “vegan” or “low carb” or “organic” or “non-GMO,” it isn’t automatically good for you. There are a lot of issues with a lot of foods; the biggest issue of all is the way that food production is treated as a profit-generating industry rather than as a means to keep ourselves nourished and healthy as a society. One of my big life changes is to be more intentional about what I put in my body (and yes I mean it like that too). I hope to develop healthier food habits, that is, more fresh vegetables and other whole fresh foods as opposed to processed stuff in general. All of this is irrelevant to what my body looks like, but relevant to what it can do and how it feels.

Sue Ann has been on the phone with Scott Dunbar III during some of this exchange, and the parts we overhear suggest that SDIII is a dick with no sense of humor. Sue Ann should flee. But no, she gets off the phone feeling bad about herself and worried that she’s not good enough for Scott.

Blair descends the staircase in a lovely black dress, looking stunning. She summons Sue Ann and informs her that there’s a pool party after the dance; swimsuits optional. This, of course, is Sue Ann’s cue to start feeling really shitty about herself and vowing to go on a crash diet to lose weight before the dance.

Mrs. Garrett tries to talk Sue Ann off the ledge and encourages her to split an apple. Nope, says Sue Ann. Maybe she looks OK for Kansas City, where she’s from, but she needs to be New York Vogue for Scott. Ugh help me.

OH, by the way, Sue Ann is indeed from Kansas, not Missouri. Snerk.

Little baby Tootie skates into the lounge and offers Sue Ann a piece of celery. Sue Ann refuses, declaring that she’s going on a starvation diet, and she’s going to lose ten pounds by Saturday if it kills her. Which it likely will, because losing ten pounds in just a few days is batshit.

Tootie scoots us into the next scene by letting us know exactly what she thinks of their new celery diet.

What’s this? Look at this wee family-style dining hall they have!

We never see this again, of course; in seasons 2-4 Eastland has a central kitchen, which Mrs. Garrett manages; Blair, Natalie, Tootie, and The New Girl, Jo, work in; and all the other girls report to to eat.

We’re here, though, because Sue Ann needs to look at the food and covet it.

Molly comments that Sue Ann hasn’t eaten in a week, so I guess the dance is over? Hmmm, apparently not, as Sue Ann enthuses that indeed she hasn’t, and she’s lost six pounds. When the hell is this dance?

Molly, as woke as she is adorable, tells Sue Ann that it’s stupid to starve herself for some dude she doesn’t even know. Tootie suggests that Sue Ann order one of the weight-loss solutions they’ve seen on TV, and she immediately gets up to act one out. Mrs. Garrett overhears and says that it doesn’t work; she’s already tried it.

Mrs. Garrett, for her part, is eating an entire green pepper for her lunch. That’s ridiculous. A green pepper on its own isn’t food. It’s a spice. Mix in some greens and squash if you’re trying to be healthy there, Edna.

Enter Eastland’s patriarch, Mr. Bradley. He complains that the cook has reported that half the food is coming back to the kitchen because everyone is on a diet. He sees Mrs. G’s plate and accuses her of being the ringleader of everyone’s fatphobia; when she asks her what you call the stuff on her plate, she says, “I call it my business.”

You tell him, Mrs. G.

Mrs. G insists to Mr. Bradley that there’s nothing wrong with dieting as long as it’s done sensibly. He says he’s going to find out if it is being done sensibly while Sue Ann, hoping to avoid detection, fills her plate with whatever dead animal stew they’re having, and a cinnamon bun on the side. Mrs. G, whom Sue Ann already told she was stuffed, is suspicious.

Enter Blair, clutching a Tennis magazine and announcing to Sue Ann that she’s got a picture of Scott to show her.

Wait a minute, Sue Ann doesn’t even know who this douchebag is? Why is she doing this to herself?

Sue Ann takes one look at this Adonis and passes out. No really. She hasn’t eaten in a week, remember?

I wonder how many trust falls Julie Piekarski had to do with John Lawlor.

Back at the ranch, Mrs. Garrett reports that the doctor says Sue Ann is going to be just fine, and Mr. Parker stomps around and declares that he’s going to let Sue Ann have it. Mrs. Garrett wisely points out that she really doesn’t need to be yelled at right now, but he’s your standard shithead and he insists he knows what’s best at his school. When Blair comes down and whines that Sue Ann still won’t eat anything, Mr. Parker pushes past Mrs. G and up the stairs.

Sue Ann is in bed. No telling where the doctor went. Mr. Parker yells at Sue Ann and then says he thinks it’s stupid that “women are always dieting.” Barf. He says there’s nothing wrong with “a little meat on your bones,” and Natalie, Awesome, kick-ass Natalie, points out that they can say that shit all they want, but beauty standards exclude girls like her. The thing about Natalie, though, is that for the rest of the series, she is awesome and confident and fun-loving and popular and fucking amazing.

But back in season one, Mr. Parker is a dick and Mrs. G is worried. She tells Sue Ann she’ll make anything Sue Ann asks for to eat, and then declares that she’ll surprise her. After Mrs. G scurries out of the room to make food for Sue Ann, Sue Ann tells Blair that she has no intention of eating until after the dance.

Blair is now guilty, not only because Sue Ann is anorexic, but because Natalie is depressed, Natalie’s depression doesn’t last long, though, when Steve the cute grocery delivery boy comes by to apologize for thinking the diet instant breakfast drink was for her. He’s tried to make it up to her with a present: The Memoirs of Larry, Curly, and Moe.

Well done, Steve. Well done. Natalie escorts Steve into the kitchen just as Mr. Parker bursts in with Chinese takeout. Tootie offers to take it upstairs, mostly so she can get into it herself. Tootie runs off with the moo goo gai pain just as Mrs. G makes a glorious entrance.

She looks stunning, and the studio audience applauds. When Sue Ann expresses surprise that Mrs. G lost a dress size already, Mrs. G explains that Sue Ann helped her realize how foolish she was being about the weight loss. She kept her size fourteen, and she’s a glorious fourteen.

And if and when she and her body are ready for it, she’ll be a glorious twelve.

Mrs. G leads Sue Ann to the mirror for a magical Mrs. G pep talk, and it doesn’t take long for Sue Ann to be cured.

We’re not quite done, though. There’s still one more appearance from Blair, who has come upstairs with Mrs. G’s rice pudding in hopes of finally getting Sue Ann to eat.

That is one toxic muthafuckin’ friendship.