Portia de Rossi

Well, to be honest, I read this one kind of slow. Simply for the fact that the content was very hard for me to read. It made me sad, and heartbroken, and since the writer was so open and vivid with her story, it made it all that more real.
I could only read a few chapters at a time before having to put it down because I felt so depressed.
However, simply put, I thought the book was amazing.
Portia didn't shy away from anything, and really invited anyone who cares into her demons; her eating show more disorder, her insecurities, her homosexuality.
It was beautifully written as well. For an actor, she has a gift with words.
The only thing I didn't like was that not much time if any was spent on her recovery. I understand that the point of the book was about her disorder and not her recovery, yet still when it was all said and done, I felt a bit cheated in that we didn't get to see more of how she beat it. show less

I was surprised by how much I liked this; she writes with a very strong, consistent voice and provides a very rational picture of a ruthlessly irrational disease. She painted such a clear picture of her thinking without being at all pedantic; this made her voice all the more powerful: hers were just "normal" thought processes. Honestly, it amazes me that people read this book and, in their review, say "I couldn't relate. It didn't make sense." I thought *everyone* had those kinds of thoughts show more to some extent. I stayed up very late into the night to finish it.

The epilogue provided a slight shift of voice and small turn toward the pedantic, by which I decided not to be off-put as it was quite brief and, in a way, the shift was justified. She had found a new way of living and thinking, and she had to replace the prominence of those old thoughts with new things about which to be passionate: vegetarianism, learning new skills, reconnecting with former joys.

Ellen is introduced in the epilogue, in what is presented as a common occurrence, nursing wounded birds back to health. With that image, I thought "Oh no, don't say she "saved you". But then, on second thought, if the broken love that was offered to you as a child shaped so much of your thinking and compulsions, it is often true that when someone offers you a complete, safe, trusting love -- even incidentally -- that can heal much in your spirit (yes, I know that sounds cheesy). So, though I don't think another person can really "save" anyone, I think the love and care that is offered to a hurting person can certainly help the healing process and allow them to realize, at the very least, they can feel safe and begin to break old, deceptive life patterns -- or at least begin to acknowledge them as deceptive.

(There were several editorial errors, most noticeably using "exasperate" when "exacerbate" was required (p 185); the editors should have caught all those things.)
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Article for work:

I frequently read in subject ‘clumps.’ Upon reading an interesting fact or blurb, I typically search for more books and articles in that area until my interest has run its course. In this case, what sparked my inquiry into restrictive eating disorders was, for me, a very unusual source. Though it is extremely uncharacteristic for me to read celebrity auto/biographies, I did read Portia de Rossi’s Unbearable Lightness: a story of loss and gain (2010). I had been watching “Arrested Development” DVDS from the Library and absolutely loved the show; so when I saw she had written a book, I quickly placed a hold on it and was pleased and surprised by how much I liked it. With a strong, consistent voice, de Rossi presents her thought-life as she developed her eating disorder and progressed into full blown anorexia and recovery. As I read more on the subject, the following three books came out on top.

Going Hungry: writers on desire, self-denial, and overcoming anorexia (2008) edited by Kate Taylor, includes essays that largely focus on excessive restricting, but they also explore how that pattern of restricting passes beyond food to relationships, intimacy, self-awareness -- even consumption of material goods -- in a quest to remain a self-contained unit, wanting and needing nothing to combat hurt and disappointment.

Gaining: the truth about life after eating disorders (2007) by Aimee Liu, offered a fascinating exploration of what restricting offered to women – the rewards they experienced and felt that went far deeper than just a super-skinny body: essentially, the void it tried to fill. Gaining includes the author’s personal experiences, those of other women, and existing research on anorexia, including the characteristics, personality traits, and early-life experiences shared by many female anorexics.

Appetites: why women want (2003) by Caroline Knapp, also provides much food for thought, going quite a bit beyond just eating disorders to hunger and desire -- of all types -- and why women feel compelled to deny them. Appetites includes numerous interviews with women, excerpts from classic feminist texts, and sociological statistics blended together in such a way to present a work that could be categorized as a cultural study. This title would, I believe, serve as a wonderful pick for a women’s book club that enjoys a more cerebral selection. For those with young daughters I believe it is particularly compelling as you are forced to realize the various gender characteristics you may unintentionally promote, even while, at the same time, each day you hate having to live under them and suffer their ill effects (‘promotion’ by virtue of the example we set as we accept them in our own lives). A reviewer on Amazon (“LCC”) adeptly summed up the general thrust of the book: “[it] focuses on the psychology of women and how society impacts women’s desires and sense of entitlement.” Appetites looks at what it means to feed, truly, the body and soul… and why so many women instead believe they deserve to starve.

All four of these books ultimately aim to explore what it means -- and the difficulty in the struggle -- to become healthy and whole. They are not “how-to” manuals for eating disorders. Rather, they cause you to think about the voids you may feel and the importance of dealing with those issues straight-on rather than acquiring self-destructive behaviors. They also will help you understand the thought-processes and impetus behind someone you love who is living with an eating disorder. show less

It's rare to find books on the intersection between EDs and sexuality so I am thankful that Portia de Rossi has published this. She talks very frankly and brutally about how internalised shame over her identity was in part why she was so secretive about her illness and why it also consumed her for so long.

— "There’s a reason they call it a private life," I’d often say to interviewers. But there’s a fine line between being private and being ashamed."

This autobiographical account of the development of anorexia was gripping - like I was gripping my kindle so tightly I couldn't let go and spent multiple nights up until 3AM or later because I could not put it down. I have never been anorexic, so I cannot evaluate from that point of view, but the documentation of obsession feels incredibly real and that is what makes the book so compelling. Watching the ordeal unfold for her - you can feel her pain viscerally.

The only frustration with the show more book is that her recovery, while a powerful chapter in the book and the ray of hope you are waiting for the whole way through, is relegated to a short epilogue at the end. I didn't feel like it was clear enough the connection between her self-hatred as a result of feeling pressure not to be gay and what happens to her health. But despite this she does an amazing job of showing how the insanity seemed sane to her while maintaining the reader's understanding of just how scary and unreal her behavior was.

I highly recommend this book for its deft display of how disordered eating and celebrity culture and being a woman in western society can break one person down. show less