I'm Not the New Me [Bargain Price] [Paperback]

Wendy McClure (Author)

Book Description

Publication Date: April 26, 2005

A hilarious and sometimes poignant look at the absurdities of weight-loss culture from an appealing and original new voice.

From the creator of the immensely popular websites Pound and Candyboots, this is the memoir of Wendy McClure's odyssey-on-line and off-through the Valley of The Shadow of Her Really Big Ass. It's about the universe she created for herself when she couldn't see herself as a kicky Weight Loss Success Story, only she put it all on a website and became sort of an inspiration anyway.

I'm Not The New Me is about coming to terms with a family heritage of fat and drastic surgeries, and about self-esteem issues that are nobody's business but your own. It's wondering what's left of yourself after you lose weight-and just who the hell you are if you gain it back. It's about the absurdities of online identities and fat girl clichés, and the sheer terror of appearing live and in person in your very own life.

--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly

When McClure, a 33-year-old children's book editor from Chicago, creates a Web site to chronicle losing weight, she contemplates possible names for it. She rejects My Weight Loss Journey, Soon To Be Slender, My Body Journal and Funky Flesh, which she decides "has bad B.O. connotations," before choosing Pound (its Web address is www.poundy.com because www.pound.com wasn't available). In this funny, likable memoir, McClure offers sardonic commentary on both projects—her struggle to shed pounds and the creation and growth of Pound—from confessing how much she wants a special Weight Watchers magnet (the token the program gives to members when they lose their first 25 pounds) to describing a shopping trip to Lane Bryant. "For some reason, plus size designers love the mutant conjoined twinset," she writes. "I think they're under the impression that fat women get so out of breath putting their arms through sleeves that they're doing us a favor." McClure's narrative also includes selections of e-mails from appreciative, devoted Pound readers, accounts of online dating woes and some recollections of her childhood. The narrative drags in spots, but, just as Pound fans found McClure's words inspiring, those who read this work are likely to applaud its author for writing such an encouraging, spirited book. Agent, Erin Hosier at the Gernert Company. (Apr. 26)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Review

A brave, bittersweet look at weight, loss, and elusive happy endings. -- Jennifer Weiner, author of Good In Bed

If you really want to lose weight, read this book--you'll laugh your ass off. -- Steve Almond, author of Candyfreak

[a] hilarious, painfully honest, totally compelling...suspenseful and strangely comforting story of a girl trying to lose a few pounds... -- Jennifer Belle, author of High Maintenance and Going Down --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

See all Editorial Reviews

Product Details

• Paperback: 320 pages
• Publisher: Riverhead Trade (April 26, 2005)
• ISBN-10: 1594480745
• ASIN: B000CEXTY8
• Product Dimensions: 7.8 x 5 x 1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 9.6 ounces
• Average Customer Review: 3.9 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (65 customer reviews)
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #484,587 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

More About the Author

Wendy McClure is a columnist for BUST magazine and a children's book editor. Her essays have appeared in the The New York Times Magazine, The Chicago Sun-Times, and in numerous anthologies. She was born in Oak Park, Illinois, graduated from the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and now lives in Chicago with her husband, Chris, in a neighborhood near the river.

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

20 of 20 people found the following review helpful

4.0 out of 5 stars A different weight-loss memoir August 3, 2005

By R. Carey

Format:Paperback

First things first: yes, in this book, Wendy McClure loses weight. And yes, she does engage in a fair bit of navel-gazing that seeks to elevate what is essentially ordinary into something grand and heroic. That being said, I would not call this a weight-loss memoir. The weight loss thing gives structure to the book, certainly, but it is not the ultimate point. It is most certainly not meant to inspire other people to lose weight, or even to justify McClure's own weight problems. Rather, it is a book about McClure's life at the cusp of 30 in Midwest America, living as an educated young fat woman trying to find an identity. This is not a book for someone looking for inspiration, or even a way to lose weight. McClure tells us that she herself is incredulous about, and perhaps even a little apprehensive toward, those who tell her her website has inspired them to go off and lose weight on their own. This is a book for fellow people who are or have been where McClure is. It is, ironically enough, a book about an identity beyond weight and weight loss.

McClure doesn't lose sight of the fact that she feels that she's buying into something by joining a group to lose weight. That cynicism is certainly refreshing. It keeps the book from plunging too far into cloying feel-good tripe, or from ascending too high into the sphere of the truly self-obsessed navel-gazing memoir. It's not that McClure advocates not improving oneself; rather, it's that she sees that there is more to the modern push to lose weight than is immediately apparent, and that finding out how to improve yourself without buying into the weight-loss culture is one of the trickier things to try to accomplish.

The plot meanders at times, and there is no great apotheosis of Wendy McClure awaiting readers at the end, but this is perhaps one of the most honest, unabashed books I've come across in quite some time. If you want a self-help book, this is not for you. If you want to step inside the life of Wendy McClure, and perhaps even feel some resonance with your own, then go and read this right away.

18 of 19 people found the following review helpful

4.0 out of 5 stars Surprisingly enjoyable and encouraging May 16, 2005

By redmarina

Format:Paperback

Caveat: This is the first "fat girl story" that I've read.

I expected it to be another Bridget Jones diary and it was not. I was pleasantly surprised by the respect that Wendy has for herself and that she didn't focus [at least her book] on changing for a man or for a reunion (cliche weight loss themes). The book is witty, funny, and not juvenile (for the most part) although the depression did remind me of my high school days as an "alternative"/psuedo-goth. I think Wendy did a decent job of depicting herself as a whole. Ultimately, I never felt pity for Wendy because she seems so cool (although health is a separate issue).

I have a little (compared to Wendy) weight to lose myself and I could relate to the "IRS Audit photographs". Her description was so vivid! Ultimately, this book was encouraging and really encouraged me to make an effort to get healthy without making me feel guilty.

The WW cards are awesome and I enjoy showing them to friends. :) Her site candyboots.com has more of the cards.

25 of 31 people found the following review helpful

5.0 out of 5 stars Lose Weight From Laughing So Hard At This Book May 9, 2005

By Cedric's Mom VINE™ VOICE

Format:Paperback

What a great book. You will absolutely die laughing at the Weight Watchers Menu Cards in the center section of the book. Get the web URL and visit the site to see even more cards. I love the way she exploits the props and themes of the photographs, not just the items. This stuff is hilarious.

Wendy McClure is a crack-up, but the girl is no slouch or one-trick pony. She has an MFA in poetry from the Iowa Writer's Workshop, one of the country's most difficult programs to gain entry to. I'm so glad to see her using her excellent talent and skill for something so valuable: making me laugh until I pee on myself.