I’ve had this story from Newsweek open in my browser since it first came across my Bloglines on Tuesday, unsure of how to approach it. I have serious body image problems and while intellectually I reject the idea that women must erase imperfections and signs of aging to be considered attractive, on an emotional level I know that if I could afford it I’d be waiting in line for liposuction and a tummy tuck. So I’m really the last person to write objectively on the issue.

However, despite my personal conflict on the issue, I was quite disturbed to read about a new picture book for children called “My Beautiful Mommy,” in which a child’s mother has rhinoplasty, breast augmentation, and a tummy tuck. The illustration of Mommy is a cartoon of a Barbie doll-like figure in skinny pants and a belly shirt, and that’s the before image. Written by a plastic surgeon, Dr. Michael Salzhauer, the story says that surgery will make Mommy “even prettier,” making it clear that near perfection isn’t near enough. No one is so pretty that she can’t be improved upon with a scalpel. That’s a dangerous lesson to pass on to a child, male or female, at an age when they’re still developing their sense of self and beginning to compare themselves to others around them.

Dr. Salzhauer says he wrote the book to explain the surgery to the children of women who brought their offspring along to their consultations and appointments, a situation I find alarming. If you can afford cosmetic surgery, can’t you afford a babysitter? Involving a child in any medical decision has the potential to be traumatic. In the case of cancer or other life-changing illness participation may be necessary; for a boob job, not so much.

But I was most concerned by the interview with Gabriela Acosta, recounted in the article. She tells of how her son commented that her stomach looked “pruney” because of sagging skin left over from her pregnancy. First off, what’s she doing showing her abdomen to a son in third grade? Post kindergarten I’m a believer in modesty as the best course, so I really hope this was a passing observation at the beach. But in light of the rest of the interview, somehow, I don’t think so.

The reassuring tale helped win Acosta over—she scheduled breast augmentation and a tummy tuck. Since February, when she had the surgery, she and Junior have read the book a half dozen times, and she says it helped him feel excited rather than scared. “I didn’t want him to think [the surgery] was because I was hurting. It was to make me feel good,” she says.

That message seems to have gotten through. Instead of being uncomfortable about the surgery, Acosta says her son actually spoke up about it at a big party. “Did you see her new belly button? It’s so pretty!” he said of his mom. “I think he was proud,” she says.

Having your nine-year-old son so invested in what your body looks like that he points out your “pretty bellybutton” to people? There’s something wrong with that level of ownership. Also, they’ve continued to read this book after the surgery, and he feels “excited” about the changes to her body, and proud of them. Warning bells are going off here. Maybe it’s just me, but this has “creepy” written all over it. Whatever happened to boundaries?

If it’s not inappropriate ownership, it hints to me of something equally unsettling. In my experience, kids are most gushing about things they are the most ambivalent about. They attempt to reassure themselves by convincing others that everything is ok — better than ok. That’s a heavy burden to place on a child, to comfort themselves by comforting you.

Children should not be supporting cast in their parents’ personal dramas. If you feel the need for validation on your choice to surgically alter your body, by all means talk to your friends, your partner, or an anonymous support group online. But leave the kids out of it. Keep your explanation, if you need to make one, short and sweet, and don’t rehash it for months afterward. They don’t need to know all about your body issues.

It’s their place to be children, not confidants. You’re the grownup. Act like one.

Jill at Writes Like She Talks covers some interesting territory about the book being self-published by a vanity press and asks how he managed to get it reviewed by Newsweek. Good question.

From the Spokesman Review headlines: Bipolar man found guilty of murder

That sums him up and explains why he did it, I suppose. One word.

Too bad we’re unlikely to see a headline screaming Bipolar Woman Raises Three Healthy Kids and Goes Back To College At 48.

Like many other people, I’ve been hypnotized by the child custody case involving the 416 children removed from the YFZ (Yearning For Zion) Ranch in Texas. My heart has been broken by the faces of the mothers as the children are taken away, but fear grips my stomach at the thought of social services sending those little ones back to be beaten, raped, and forced into childbirth while still children themselves.

Today’s interviews have been unsettling; staring into the faces of these anonymous women and seeing the same matching expressions and void, vacant stares when asked about the allegations, I wonder how they can justify the trite euphemisms they offer. I’m furious with these women, many of whom might have been themselves exploited children, standing passively by while their children are abused and doing nothing to protect them. Yes, they’ve been brainwashed. Yes, they’re being manipulated. But they’re mothers, damn it, and nothing, NOTHING, not even God, should come between a mother and a child needing her protection. Nothing is more sacred than that.

You don’t allow someone to hurt your child. Ever. No matter what it costs you.

From time to time people have asked what the guiding imperative in my life is. That’s it, in black and white. I will protect my children and those I love, fiercely. Always.

That’s my first and last commandment. I will do better for mine than was done for me.

On the plus side, I’ve been on half dose of the Zoloft for 2 weeks and the Geodon for 1 week, and I’ve lost 2 lbs. My appetite is gone, so losing the rest of the weight should be pretty easy. On the negative, the anxiety is back. Bad. I’m taking Ativan to cope, but that’s not a long-term solution. Unfortunately, Zoloft was the long-term solution.

On the positive side, halving the Geodon cut my pre-insurance drug bill by 1/3, a very significant amount. I think I can sustain on this level no problem. On the negative side, I’m not sleeping again.

There’s got to be a balance in here somewhere, if only I can find it. I shouldn’t have to choose between hating my chaotic mind and hating my body.

I remember this one from years ago. What an ass.

Via Boing Boing

Just when I have a solid idea for a non-fiction project, CNN says the memoir is just vanity and has been done to death.

Now I have to decide if I have anything to say that means something to anyone besides me.

In the last couple of years Bipolar Disorder has become a popular diagnosis for kids, with doctors citing silliness and temper tantrums as symptoms in afflicted preschoolers. Color me skeptical, but while I have no doubt that BPD can and does express itself at a young age, I don’t think that 1 million–a forty-fold increase since 1994–is an accurate number.

As the number of diagnoses has gone up, the age at labeling has decreased until even toddlers are being treated with psychotropic drugs. Superlagirl takes this trend to it’s logical conclusion with this fictional news report.

Fiction from Superlagirl:

The fetus, who Mandi Donaldson has named Piper, demonstrated extreme mood swings as early as 20 weeks. “Sometimes she would just lie there for hours, and other times she just couldn’t be still. She was completely erratic.” The symptoms worsened as the weeks went by with Piper’s agitation growing progressively stronger. “She started kicking me in the kidney over and over again. I knew something was definitely wrong, but I never suspected mental illness. I thought she was just a little shit.”

Dr. Matthew Pearson, chair of the newly developed Fetal Psychiatry Department at Johns Hopkins, says this type of behavior is characteristic of Fetal Bipolar Disorder. “These fetuses are very sick and very difficult to care for. They rapidly cycle between depression and mania, causing extreme distress for their mothers, including heartburn and frequent urge to urinate.”

Although the diagnosis of Fetal Bipolar Disorder has been in use since 2005, it gained much attention last month when the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention released a report showing that the number of new diagnoses had increased 300% in the past two years. The rising rates of Fetal Bipolar Disorder have been met with alarm by obstetricians who say that more research is needed in the field now that the diagnosis is being applied on a wide scale. Bart Mohan of the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology suggests that the current estimates of the prevalence of the disease may fall drastically short of the true number of cases.

“Look, we don’t know how many fetuses are affected by this disease. It could be thousands. There may be thousands more with subclinical symptoms. We need to develop standards of practice in treating these cases, but we can’t do that until we have accurate and reliable screening procedures. Obviously, the standard of practice is going to be immediate C-Section, but we at least need to give the impression we’re being scientific about it.”

Sure wish I’d written that.

Related: Half of kids labeled bipolar may be misdiagnosed

Thanks to Billie for this one. I needed something to write about today.

The Meme of the Mundane

Favorite laundry detergent: All Free & Clear - I’m allergic to the dyes in most brands.

Favorite item used for an unintended purpose: Champagne corks as keepsakes. I’ve saved one from each of 3 times I’ve finished a novel, and one from celebrating my best friend’s first book. I keep them in a Japanese tea cup on the shelf over my desk.

Favorite way to buy music: Most of it is gifts from my kids, but if I buy it myself I order cds from Amazon.

How clean is your car? There’s a 350 watt amp in my trunk and a sleeping back in my back seat. Other than that, it needs to be washed but it’s not too bad. It smells pretty good with my hummingbird air freshener and no cigarette smoke.

How clean is your apartment/house/room? I’ve been fighting depression lately, so it’s gotten away from me. Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to have guests over without several hours notice.

How clean is your office? (What’s with the neatness fetish? Are they trying to make me feel bad? If so, it’s working.) Don’t ask. I’ve got 3 computer carcasses in here, 3 old monitors, a rebuilt computer Tony is running as a Windows server for an FBLA project, and boxes of scrap parts just in case I need them for a repair job sometime in the future. On a good day, the only coffee cup on my desk is the one I’m drinking from. One positive thing: there’s always fresh flowers.

Favorite weekly free time: Zags basketball night on TV, but I won’t get any more of that until November. On a daily basis, my Skype chat with Meredith before she goes to bed. Once I’ve talked with her I know she’s safe and I can go on with the rest of my day.

Is there a word, phrase, or gesture that is identifiably yours? I don’t think so. You all would know that better than I. Is there something I do that marks me as me?

Most effective medicine for one (or more) of your ailments: See my Crazy Meds category for the details.

A favorite thing you try to sell/push/encourage your friends to try: Bellydance. If you don’t want to do it, you should at least spend time watching it. It feeds your soul. Best enjoyed with babajanoush on the side.

Favorite new (or new-to-you) thing: Twitter. I just discovered it and want you all to sign up so I have someone to talk to. Please?

Who to tag, who to tag. Sadly, I’m not sure who has even stuck around through my current self-absorbed phase, besides the few dear souls who comment, to whom I’m eternally grateful. How about Sherry, Lynn, Burrow, Ahistoricality, and Cyn.

Strange men who stand too close and wink at me are just plain creepy. Even at Office Depot. It makes me want to hit.

Anyone else have these weird encounters in unexpected places?

Remember when I said Zoloft was my miracle drug, that it wiped out my anxiety and lifted my depression better than anything I’d ever taken? It did all that but it also made me gain 15 lbs. It’s a trade-off, one I can’t live with anymore.

So I cut my dose in half a week ago. While I was at it, I cut my Geodon in half too, in case that was part of the problem. Next step of the plan — reduce my Lamictal.

I don’t want to take these things anymore.

(Yes, my doctor knows. At least about the Zoloft and the Geodon. She’s not crazy about it, but she knows.)