Tuesday, May 4, 2010
There was a poetry reading I went to in Oxford. I couldn't stop laughing. The reader more of a slampoet or lyricist, the way he broke out into verse. Basically FAT and SEX were neurotically repeated the way the magazines bombard you at the grocery store checkout. This magazine boasts of 25 ways to have better sex. Wait! No! Let me tell you all of his secret fantasies! No, no they got it wrong. Lose weight and feel better naked in 2 weeks! Only two weeks! What do you have to lose?
I know my boss reads this. That's what any good boss does: keep tabs on her employees' public information. She's powerful. Perhaps it's because she can run four stores and keep it all together, maybe it's that she is so stern with employees, but mostly she works her ass off, and encourages everyone else to do the same. She's curvy like me. My point is with all this is, please don't worry about your weight when there are far more important things to deal with. Maintain a healthy weight, put on five minutes worth of makeup, and wake up!
Men don't worry about their weight half as much as women do. They have more important matters to worry about than their beer gut, hopefully. Recently I have to catch myself looking at my dimply thighs and realize ... why the fuck are you doing this? It's ten o'clock, finish what's on your to-do list ... and I'm happier that way. I finish things instead of obsess and waste time. Time that I could be earning money or enjoying a good book.
You look fine ... really. I know I can't see you, but I know most of you don't art model. We've got clothes for a reason and they should be altered to suit you, not the reverse. Perhaps this is my anti-beauty message, and perhaps it's what happens to you if you devote too many hours a day to beauty. I kinda lost my peace.