Realistic Fiction

When life throws curves, we all have our own methods for dodging or dealing with them, and when the complications escalate, we seek comfort, escape, or a particular coping mechanism.  Some of us are attracted to music, reading, hobbies, meditation, or exercise; others are drawn to food, alcohol, drugs, gambling, or sex.  This is the focus of Teenage Waistland (Delacorte, 2010). The teens in Lynn Biederman’s and Lisa Pazer’s book fill their empty spaces with food.  All excessively overweight, they seek assistance in a clinical trial Lap-Band program at Park Avenue Bariatrics, but their weight, counselor Betsy Glass tells them, is likely a symptom of larger issues: “The Lap-Band isn’t a fix; it is only a tool, and there’s a lot of hard work and self-discipline involved.  The band will solve the hunger aspect of your eating, but not the underlying reasons that you’re self-medicating with food” (87). 

Readers gradually learn the emotionally laden traumas that have contributed to these teens’ current situations.  The “crazy stuff” they worry about, the “awfulizing” they do, can hardly be reduced to simple self-pity or be cured by self-discipline alone.  Dealing with death, rape, and divorce, they struggle to meet their own and other people’s expectations.  Bobby, a football lineman with a family history of players, describes the difficulty of discussing his issues with his father: “Imagine spending your life programming a character in a video game—you know, coding in the actions he can perform and the ways he can respond to events.  But then your character—the one you created—decides he doesn’t like his environment or any of the things he’s supposed to do in it” (172).

This book goes beyond simple body image and clearly sends the message that beauty doesn’t guarantee happiness.  In fact, beauty carries its own brand of challenges: “When you’re beautiful, you don’t have to develop any skills or talents to get noticed or define yourself, so you only turn out to be what everyone expects you to be.  Isn’t that why anyone does anything in life? To be special? To be loved?” (215).  While acceptance may be one goal in life, pursuing topics of interest, discovering areas of expertise, and finding emotional fulfillment are others.

Until I was forced to look at the food issue from the perspective of these teens, I didn’t realize how much we are socialized to these attitudes.  Just as “normal people wind down with a martini” (248), others head for the fridge when they feel bad.  Girlfriends share an entire carton of ice cream when love goes wrong, or “if someone wants to show their love, they cook something special for you.  . . . Or give you a lollipop to make you feel better after a vaccination” (248).   Loved ones buy boxes of chocolates or “treat” one another with food at a favorite restaurant.  Likewise, holidays, family gatherings, celebrations often revolve around food.  We connect food to an expression of love, “which is why it often translates into a substitution for love, or a perceived lack of love” (248).  We all seek comfort, but sometimes this source of comfort grows excessive and becomes an issue itself: “Look at the definition of addiction—when the source of comfort has become such a constant necessity that it affects one’s mental, physiological, or social well-being, that’s when it becomes an addictive behavior” (249).

Perhaps the strongest message this book sends is a message about communication and the value of support systems.  A gregarious species, humans aren’t meant to deal with emotional issues alone, yet we often isolate ourselves and keep our dark, painful secrets hidden—a sure recipe for catastrophe. 

            Realistic fiction has the power to touch lives; share your recent realistic fiction reading.