Big fat deal

There are a few phrases Wendy McClure would prefer you not use to describe her. Pundit is one. Blogger with a book deal is another. Immensely popular is a third. But fat? Well, she can live with that.

At least, the Lincoln Square resident has been living with that label for 34 years. McClure—a children's book editor and pop-culture columnist for Bust magazine—is the author of I'm Not the New Me, a memoir published by Riverhead Books this month. But she is best known for her online work as author of the blog Pound (www.poundy.com), started in 2000 as a way to chronicle her weight loss and explore what it's like to be a woman who expects her bathroom scale to shout "fat whore" when her feet hit the platform.

I'm Not the New Me includes some of the observations logged on Pound over the years that helped McClure cultivate a following. But the memoir is essentially 304 pages of new material, more of a behind-the-blog look at what life is like when you're struggling to find your identity while your physical self changes shape.McClure's attitude about body issues, weight and fellow dieters as a support system are diametrically opposed to those that appear in the mainstream, such as the comic strip Cathy (e.g., She thinks nothing of cursing, while Cathy screams, "Aaaack!").

Even if you aren't much for blogging, you likely know McClure indirectly if you have an e-mail account. It was her posting of the unintentionally funny 1970s Weight Watchers recipe cards (www.candyboots.com) that turned the relics from thrift-store fodder to the meme that landed in your in-box. Twice.

McClure says her book was inspired by fellow Television Without Pity (www.televisionwithoutpity.com) scribe Pamela Ribon's Why Girls Are Weird: A Novel, and Caroline Knapp's last tome, Appetites: Why Women Want.

"Before Appetites, I thought there wasn't even a book in the category I wanted to write," she says. "Appetites filled some of the space I wanted to cover. It was less overwhelming once I realized that. I didn't feel like I had to try to do everything in one book."

Sitting in a booth at North Center's Lincoln Restaurant, the site of several scenes in the book, McClure is more demure than you'd expect of someone who once ripped her scale open with a screwdriver. The Oak Park native rarely makes eye contact and speaks softly, even when suggesting that she thinks Kirstie Alley, star of Showtime's Fat Actress, ought to "fuck off."

Despite her calm demeanor, McClure is louder than life on the page. I'm Not the New Me balances body image and blogging insights with a few reality-TV–type revelations in the form of bad breakups, ongoing therapy sessions, and, of course, the slow and stubborn disappearance of those extra pounds.

McClure refers to her friends and family by their real names. Most, she says, think of appearing on a Web log—and then in a book inspired by one—as a thrill. But the passages about her mother's history of obesity and stomach-stapling surgery recently prompted her mom to lament, "So, you're going to out me about this surgery...." This is despite the fact the surgery had been mentioned on McClure's website years ago.

Drawing style inspiration from her blog format, McClure wrote I'm Not the New Me in a conversational, casual tone, which may be distracting to readers who expect more formality and gravitas in their bound volumes. Such familiarity works well, though, as a way to create a sense of place. As McClure weaves through Chicago neighborhoods, her tales ring true to locals who take the El, shop at garage sales and eat at the Lincoln Restaurant more often than Le Lan.

McClure's book will soon take her out of those Chicago 'hoods. As she gears up for the attention to come from the book tour, she dissects a blurb on the back cover. It refers to "The Valley of The Shadow of Her Really Big Ass," a line taken, albeit adjusted, from the book. "I wrote 'The Valley of The Shadow of a Really Big Ass.' Not 'Her.' Now, is everyone just going to be checking out my ass?"

McClure will read from I'm Not the New Me ($14) at Women and Children First (5233 N Clark St, 773-769-9299) on April 27.