I, every month, buy the majority of the Harlequin Blaze titles that are published. I read other lines as well, but the Blaze books are by far my favorite as they generally include snappy dialogue, women who are trying to find their own path (even if that path, per force, leads them straight to some hunky guy), and some genuinely erotic sex.

However. A couple of things have come up lately that I just can’t let pass without comment.

This is from Slow Hands by Leslie Kelly.

After the slurred voice behind her got loud enough for Jake to hear it over the crowd, he leaped to his feet, turned around and thrust an angry finger into the drunk man’s face. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to keep your eyes to your own damn self and your fat mouth closed?” he snapped.

The foul-mouthed fan, a heavyset, sweaty guy with red cheeks and beer-scented breath, rose, too, swaying on his feet. “Hey, man, she’s hot.”

Maddy, the main character, assures herself that her shirt isn’t lowcut and that she doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of. The drunk guy calls her hot again.

Despite the crudeness she’d heard from the stranger before Jake had caught on and launched at him, she remained more annoyed than offended. Leave it to a breast-obsessed little boy wearing men’s triple-X sized clothing to ruin her lovely afternoon.

The men trade more insults, Maddy realizes Jake is seriously angry, the drunk guy asks her if her boobs are real. She tells him his favorite show must be Girls Gone Wild and, in much fancier words because she is that kind of woman, calls him a pig.

Now, the conflation of men with pigs has always been an interesting one to me. It’s a REALLY layered comparison, especially if you know anything about pigs. But I’m just going to ask what the fuck makes the author and the editors at Harlequin think it is appropriate to run with the big, sweaty fat dude stereotype? Why mention it at all? Sure, the dude could be a big, fat, sweaty guy – that has happened to me in real life. But he could also be one of those thin dudes who never ever looks wrinkled. I’ve been heckled by them before, too. Nevermind the incredible and obvious disparity between “heavyset” and “mens triple-X sized clothing” because, Ms. Kelly (if that is indeed, your real name! *laugh*), you obviously don’t know anymore about fat men, their bodies, and their clothing sizes than is known by the general public about women, their weights, and THEIR clothing sizes.

*eyeroll*

But it gets better.

And by better, I mean worse.

“I can’t believe I’m eating like this.”

They’d been munching on chicken wings and a mountain of nachos. And to his surprise, Maddy had opted for beer, sharing a half-pitcher with him, instead of some sweet, girlie drink. She seemed relaxed. if not outright laughing, she at least smiled more than once.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I don’t think they even serve salads here, unless they’re topped with deep-fried chicken and a mountain of cheese.”

One fine, delicate brow arched and she stared at him with quiet reproach, though a hint of a smile lurked on her beautiful mouth. “What are you suggesting, Jake? That I should only be eating salads?”

I get that Ms. Kelly is going for some sort of realistic representation of the way women interact with food. I get that, honest. But are you SERIOUS? I’m glad he’s surprised she’s eating like a real person. But come on. Do we really need more women in fiction who self-flagellate in front of their dinner companions about what the hell they are eating? This is a romance novel. There are only 200+/- pages to make me have a good time. This? Is not a good time.

But, oh, it goes on!

He backpedaled, holding up a quick, defensive hand. Damn, how could guys avoid these basic traps women always set out for them? “No way.” Grinning, he added, “Just seems like the only things my sisters ever ordered. God forbid one of them should ever have taken a bite out of a hamburger, especially if one of their boyfriends was around.”

“It’s a female thing.” She sighed heavily, as if accepting something that was inevitable. “Not just the instinct to watch what we eat, so we can look like what all the media images tell us we should look like. There’s also a need to eat lightly in front of men, as if we need to assure them we’re on top of things and will never gain weight.”

“When secretly you’re all dying for wings and nachos?”

She licked her lips, them smacked them together before reaching for another. “Yes. Any of your sisters married?”

“The oldest, with three kids-twin boys and a girl. And Blair, who’s a year older than me, is engaged.”

“Uh-huh. Watch her at the wedding reception. She’s going to bite into the first piece of cake she’s had since she decided he was the one, and will look like she’s already had her first orgasm of the night.”

First, there is the equation of food with orgasms, with sex. Eating cake is like having an orgasm. In our society with its mixed signals about sex (Men should have tons of it! Women should be virgins!), this sort of thing says a lot. Self-denial is good because food/sex is bad! You are in control and “on top of things” if you never let them see you eat!

Not to mention – except I’m totally mentioning it – the utterly disgusting perpetuation of the women-don’t-eat-in-front-of-men paradigm. There is another page and a half of this conversation, all about how if it were a real date she’d only order water (with lemon, a natural diuretic!) and a bread stick.

Did someone stet the deletion of this entire bit of dialog at the last minute? Did it completely escape everyone’s notice the way this dude is NOT a virgin (in fact, Maddy thinks he is a male prostitute – oh, plot device) but he only mentions this behavior in his sisters and Maddy still manages, even while acknowledging the outrageous standards of the media, to establish her superiority to those other women? Because women need to compete with each other even more! Men are a limited resource!

Here’s the bit that really grosses me out:

He risked a quick, appreciative look across the table at her curvy figure [TR says - which is a euphemism that means she thinks she's fat but really she's, like, a size 8], so incredibly sexy in her hot pink top. “By the way, in my opinion you don’t have a thing to worry about.”

“Ha. I have huge breasts, short legs, what my father likes to call my late mother’s ‘childbearing hips’ and a big backside.”

As if any man would complain about a single one of those things? Was she for real? “Honey from where I’m sitting, you are just about perfect.”

“From where you’re sitting, you can’t see the extra fifteen pounds that couldn’t be removed from my body by a plastic surgeon using an industiral Shop-Vac instead of a liposuction machine.”

He barked a quick laugh. “You’re not going to get an agreement from any man alive on that score, Madeline Turner. You are shaped exactly the way awoman should be shaped.

Noooooooooooooooooooooo! Not the “real women have curves” argument! The one that totally ignores that women come in all sorts of shapes and sizes (and biological gender assignments, for that matter) and is totally vile!

Yes, that is exactly where this wound up.

Okay, let me give you a basic lesson in dignity and respect for other people. When someone pays you a compliment, you say thank you. You certainly don’t tell them they are blind to the extra fifteen pounds that so disfigure your frame!

*headdesk*

I’d also like to note that if that self-description is in any way accurate, Harlequin, you hella need to rethink your cover model. The lanky, flat-chested woman with no visible rear-end at all.

Like I said, I get that Ms. Kelly is trying to portray the body angst that women of all shapes and sizes feel. I just think she can do it without a) perpetuating negative stereotypes about fat men and b) having her heroine disparage the body her sexual partner finds beautiful as though he is some kind of fool. I think, in fact, the last thing we need is yet another example of women who hate their bodies.

Show me a woman who is in love with her body. A woman who is confident and not afraid of being naked, who doesn’t have to be coaxed in front of a mirror when she is naked to see why her partner desires her. Show me a woman who DOES have body issues but who knows that the mill of our culture is grinding her to grist and is fighting to escape it. Show me a woman who doesn’t like her body but wants to without some random epiphany that comes from being validated by a dude.

Not more of this crap that does nothing but give lip service to the unrealistic standard of beauty before utterly caving in to it.

Note: Tomorrow, an excerpt from Jill Shalvis’ Flashpoint where they go beyond having a heroine who has body issues and straight into straight up fat jokes! Also, a bit of ranting about the What I Did On My Summer Vacation compilation book that opens with Thea Divine writing about the fattening qualities of fast food sex and how her character needs a fast, she needs to go on The Guy Diet!