Eat Pray Go Fuck Yourself

I was at the airport with two children, 4 heavy bags and 30 minutes between flights. I had not eaten since toast that morning and had a half-gallon of coffee working its way through my bowels. I was sweating because I still had my hat with the ear flaps on and I was staring at the wall of paperbacks trying to decide which one to settle for. I did not know exactly where my children were, but I assumed it was somewhere near the huge display of $7 packets of gum and candy. There was a lady in a business suit who was stepping frighteningly close to my imaginary circle of privacy. I took a step to the left and picked up something by Stephen King.

“There’s not a whole lot to choose from is there?” the lady looked at the wall while she spoke.

“Hmm”, I said which was a combination polite smile, half-chuckle, and plea to leave me alone.

“This is a great one. I think I gave it to 25 people. I love her,” she said pointing to Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.

Ok, I have to stop here for a second before I reveal an ugly side of myself. I just want to remind you that I went into specific detail at the opening of this post to explain a little something about my particular state at the time of this incident. I also want to add that I believe wholeheartedly in the power of love and gratitude and forgiveness.

With one single exception.

I do not like Elizabeth Gilbert. For reasons both personal and philosophical, she gives me a serious chafe. She is a woman who leaves. A woman with huge testicles. And no I do not mean it as a compliment.

If any of my closest friends had been in the airport with me at the time of this occurrence, if any of them had heard this unsuspecting traveler recommend this particular book to me, they would have yelled and run and waved their arms in slow motion as though trying to stop a child from stepping onto a landmine. “Noooooooo”.

But they weren’t there.

So when the unsuspecting traveler pointed to that book, made a simple suggestion and bravely shared her personal opinion, she did so completely unprotected.

“This is a great one. I think I gave it to 25 people. I love her,” she said pointing to Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.

“I think it sucks and she’s a fuckin LIAR.”

Ok, I didn’t say that out loud, but I did give her the stink eye, enough that she took a step back. And then miraculously and by the grace of God, I felt a little hand patting my arm. “Mom?” His voice was sweet and dear and precious, but not because he had an instinct that he was trying to talk down a gunman from a water tower. His voice was sweet and dear and precious because he was about to ask me to buy him something.

“Mom?” He held up a bag of sour gummy worms in shades of neon pick and green and blue, and put on his best begging face.

Why do millions of women around the world want to read that book? Why does Oprah call her a rockstar? Why do you see entire rows of shelves in Target and Ralphs lined with volumes and volumes and volumes.

“Mommy?”

On a good day I would tell you: because it’s well-written and because everyone’s had a breakup that has forced them to do some soul searching. On a day like the one I’m sharing with you right now I would say: because the writer is a FREAK SHOW FANTASY, a wolf in sheep’s clothing--

“Mom?” my son, god bless him, will never give up.

--She does things most women can’t or won’t do and we are fascinated. But what really irks me, what really chafes, is that she rides on the coat-tails of feminism and so we’re forced to look at her experience of leaving and self exploration as honorable—

“Mommy?” he knocked the bag into my arm, thumping me again and again,

--when really it has a lot more to do with her total, utter, self absorption than it does with courage.

“Mom?”

“What!” I say in a tone that makes the poor woman turn and leave.

“Please can I—“Yes Harry, you CAN” I yell as I watch her put the book down by the rack of neck rests and scurry away, “and I’ll get this book by Stephen King for 25 of my CLOSEST FRIENDS because I LOVE HIM –

“Mom, Can I have one now?”

“—and because he went through really hard times: alcoholism, drug addiction, getting HIT BY A CAR, good old Stephen, and he struggled and persevered and came out on top“

“Mom can I—“

“and he didn’t then GO WRITE A BOOK ABOUT HOW GREAT THAT WAS. Yes honey you can. AND GO ON OPRAH AND ACT LIKE HE CURED AIDS AND CANCER AND STOPPED THE WAR IN IRAQ.”

“Do you want one?”

I looked down at the blue worm coated in crystals that he held out towards me. I looked at his little face with a smear of godknowswhat around his mouth and his tiny teeth now completely glazed in a rainbow of color and I snapped back to the real world. “Let’s go see if they have some carrots at the snack bar.”