Meh in a Box

I had a chance to read Jill Homer's book Ghost Trails last week.

I didn't buy it, but Big Worm let me borrow his copy. I felt kinda bad about not purchasing the book for my very own, but as long as Jill doesn't go all Metallica VS Napster on me I think what I did was okay. I've only bought two books in the last decade, both of which were cycling related, non-fictional, and semi auto biographical. One sucked and one didn't, so I decided I'd stop buying books and just read submarine books from the PLCMC when I'm bored.

Anyways...

I must say it was hard to put Ghost Trails down, and although I have no desire to ever enter the Iditarod Trail Race Jill's narrative account of her 2008 race was riveting. I have to admit that towards the end of the book I read something that made me feel funny, in the junior high kinda way...

"...and with my base layer finally off, my transformation was complete.

I looked at my naked body in the mirror, unable to fully accept that the reflection staring back at me was mine. My ribs and collar bone protruded sharply out of my skin. My shoulders were knobby and thin. I wrapped my fingers around my abdomen and pulled away a surprising amount of loose skin... I turned around. Sure enough, two crescent shaped, white and pink blisters had formed above each of my rear cheeks. Butt frostbite."

I had to share that with the class. I confess that the manly part of my brain found that particular passage....er, unnnh... stimulating. Kinda reminiscent of the scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont High when you see Phoebe Cates come outta the pool, except you'd have to be a guy who's into sick, twisted endurance events to really feel that way (about a race weary naked Jill, not about the pinnacle of historical cinematic moments in nudity).

It's not right or politically correct for me to feel that way... I know that, but I know that while I am alone in speaking openly about this unspeakable thought I'm certainly not alone in thinking what I thought. Let's face it, just like Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears, and Janet Reno Jill has set herself up to be a sex symbol, and it's obvious that's how she wants to be perceived. Just this past Sunday she posted a titillating series of self portraits in an attempt to use the all American in-your-face SEX SELLS marketing ploy just to sell more copies of her book.

Exhibt A:

I just have to say it, she looks so freaking hot.

I know I've promised to keep things rated PG13 around here, and I apologize to the more Puritanical of my readers, but I feel I gotta bring Jill's feet back to the grounding reality that she doesn't have to be a sex symbol to sell books. Ghost Trails is well written, moving, entertaining, inspiring, and 188 pages long. Don't be afraid to buy yourself a copy if you are worried that she might have snuck some naughty photos in and amongst the pages. All the photos in the book were from a period in her life before she became such a sex symbol, and fortunately for the moral minority modesty prevails throughout. She only mentions being naked once (it's in the second to last chapter), so as long as you don't feel the need to see how her adventure in Alaska ends you can skip right to the last chapter and avoid the mental imagery that I will have burned into my brain for a perverted lifetime.

Although I enjoyed every minute I spent reading Ghost Trails (sadly some minutes more than others) I still feel like I have to give it my...

Seal of Semi-Approval.

I know that Jill has been reading my blog for a few years, and I can't help but feel that I inspired her along every step of her adventure. When you think about that fact that she went into the race under prepared with untested equipment, and throughout the course of the race she ignored her nutrition and hydration needs while making poor decisions bringing her comfort level down considerably all the while detesting her very own existence.... and she never gave me any credit? Not even something inside the cover? It cuts deep Jill, very deep.

But still,

Buy Jill's Book, read it, keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, and live a good clean life.

FYI: I emailed Jill and warned her about his post before hand. She said she was flattered, but she also said that she felt a bit slighted. While I have this wonderful, detailed image in my brain of a naked, pasty, frostbitten, and emaciated Jill she has yet to enjoy a narrative description of my naked physical appearance. Since I am not nearly as gifted as she is when it comes to using words to describe what I see in the mirror I have decided to email her a photo of myself naked....

daily....

until she asks me to stop.

Is it wrong that I posted about another woman on The Pie's birthday?

I thought so.