fat/skinny

I fear for some women.

Look, I like a thin woman as much as anyone, but there is a point where it’s gone too far and the concern stops being “is she fit and attractive?” to “are you okay?”

“Do you need help?”

The pressure women are under to look perfect is unbearable. Better to be happy than thin; better to be overweight than unhealthy.

Positive body image is wonderful; obesity is still a threat.

I’m fat. Obese, if you believe the Wii Fit I stand on for ‘exercise’ each morning. I have no authority to judge. I care not for fashion. I dress mostly like I’ve been working around the house or lounging around in my sweats (though I rarely wear sweats – I mostly stick to band/beer/superhero t-shirts and board shorts).

I don’t like shoes.

I am not anti-fashion; that would be more like Kurt Cobain. I’m more like non-fashion. I don’t exist in fashion.

I am fashion-pathetic, as well as apathetic.

(A pathetic?)

Anyway, this weather woman looks beyond unhealthy; if it’s not an eating disorder, it’s veganism.

Or meth.

She’s definitely missing something in her diet. She would have been attractive twenty pounds ago; now, she’s more crypt-keeper than svelte.

Anyway, I’m concerned for her. It’s none of my business, obviously, and I’m sure many a folk will cancel me for daring to say so, but I’m just very concerned.

I just want to ask:

“Are you okay?”

Because I’m sure as hell not.

Target: 900 words
Written: 1177 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Sylvie And Bruno, Lewis Carroll
Comics: Phonogram 1-4
Music: Unreleased: From A Basement On A Hill II, Elliott Smith

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