This weekend, the NYT had an interview with Kitty Kelley, who is writing an unauthorized biography of Oprah. Now, I'm fine with Oprah. She does good, seems to be a good person, but I'm not a mega fan.
The interviewer said of all the things in the book, she was MOST scandalized by the story that Oprah once ordered two pecan pies from room service and ate them both.
The woman grew up dirt poor, had a baby at 14, took crack, was abused and made herself into one of the world's role models, but it's the PIE, the PIE, that horrifies the interviewer.
Full disclosure, I used to be a reporter in my real life, so I'm not going to blame the media. Part of me wishes I could be the kind of person whose life had not included eating two pies. OK, I never ate two pies. But I have eaten many massive meals in my life. I didn't get to 265 from eating strawberries and lettuce.
I don't know. I just think that overweight people are never going to get the support they need if our everyday lives horrify people. Like the trainer with cheesecake.
Am I overreacting? I don't know. Maybe it's just because I ate four fried chicken wings and beef and broccoli and I feel guilt.