I Am A Good And Interested Mother

A Neighbor Is Something That Belongs To The Stable World Of Home Life, The Thing That Lives Next Door To You.

The 'good' Mother, With Her Fixed Smile, Her Rigidity, Her Goody-goody Outlook, Her Obsession With Unnecessary Hygiene, Is In Fact A Fool. It Is The 'bad' Mother, Unafraid Of A Joke And A Glass Of Wine, Richly Self-expressive, Scornful Of Suburban Values, Who Is, In Reality, Good.

The Anorexic Body Is Held In The Grip Of Will Alone; Its Meaning Is Far From Stable. What It Says - 'notice Me, Feed Me, Mother Me' - Is Not What It Means, For Such Attentions Constitute An Agonising Test Of That Will, And Also Threaten To Return The Body To The Dreaded 'normality' It Has Been Such Ecstasy To Escape.

Hope Is Like One Of Those Orchids That Grows Around Toxic Waste: Lovely In Itself - And An Assertion, If You Like, Of Indefatigable Good - But A Sure Sign That Something Nasty Lies Underneath.

I Remain Fascinated By Where You Go As A Woman Once You Are A Mother, And If You Ever Come Back.