On writing retreat, I had something called an Avocado Fry—-It is succulent and unusual and beautiful in your mouth. What happens is, evil people who want your butt to jiggle take a healthsome and nutritious avocado (a thing that has pounds and pounds of the good fat ALREADY), they slice it up, roll it in Panko breadcrumbs (to add a layer of empty-licious carbs), then flash fry it (in oil, essentially adding a fat to a fat) and then on the side they serve a sour cream and cilantro dipping sauce (so you can coat your oil-fried nut fat in artery clogging animal fat).
Digression: On my final read through before posting I BARELY caught out of the corner of my eye that I had mis-typed and said that the dipping sauce lets you coat the fry in animal FART, a purely terrible idea for ANY recipe. Then I giggled so hard I snorted. Because I am twelve. /digression.
Anyway…back on point. As I ate this wrongful creation and wept with the perfection and beauty of its trifold fat-tastic goodness, I understood why teenage girls like TWILIGHT so much.
Yes, Bella is kinda romantically passive and everygirlish, but truly? They are not identifying with Bella. They are Identifying with EDWARD. Because Bella, to Edward, is an avocado fry. Bella’s main attraction is that she smells SO stinking delicious he has to completely avoid her at first because he is willing to kill her to get a bite.
Edward decides to NOT eat Bella, ever, not even a LITTLE, just as I must decide to not eat the avocado fry. To NOT eat is to be GOOD. Other vampires eat the delicious avocado fries (people) and they are evil (fat). Edward is GOOD, and eats NOTHING but vampire-celery, yet he is allowed to continue to LOVE the avocado fry. He takes the avocado fry WITH him, smelling it always, and yet via superhuman WILL never eats it, and therefore he is able to do runway in Milan.
Forget moderation. Deprivation = goodness. Small female body size = large female value. How sad that by thirteen our girls are already instinctually understanding this dynamic well enough that they can’t stop hurling Abercrombie panties at poor Robert Pattinson.
Okay, this may be delusional YA literature interpretation caused by post-retreat avocado fry withdrawal shakes. On the other hand? If I could marry those avocado fries and give them my tiny sparkly immortal-style babies, I SERIOUSLY might.