I Want A Perfect Body:
The Maelstrom Within
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror and feel sick to my stomach. Who is that pathetic fatass anyway? Can you see collarbones? Of course not---you are FAR too FAT for that, aren't you? I stand with my feet a foot apart and grasp the loose skin on my stomach. UGH! You are HUGE. You are GARGANTUAN. Get your sorry ass to the gym and work it for at LEAST four hours per day. And I don't mean stepping on the treadmill and walking. Oh no, you will run, full-tilt, nonstop, until the sweat soaks my clothing and I feel the satisfactory dizziness that comes with extreme exertion and a paucity of daily calories. Well, at least I have been restricting pretty severely this past month. Nothing but cantaloupe, fruit juice and water. I know, I know, a whole cantaloupe has a whopping one hundred calories, but it's primarily water after all. Water and fibre. Fibre's good. It fills me up, but not out. And it tastes pretty good too. Sure, drinking orange and grapefruit juice three times a day has given me cankers on the inside of my mouth, but so be it. The road to perfection is fraught with potholes and washed out bridges. There is strength in denial. Depriving oneself is curiously liberating. I know that if I somehow strayed from my relentless pursuit of thinness, my anxiety would reach record highs and I'd be forced to starve for the next five days as punishment. Do you see me weaken? Will I be successful in whittling myself down to skin and bone. No fat need apply; you are sorely NOT wanted.
. . . . .
Finally the weekend arrives. I don't need to worry about feeling faint on the job. I can restrict even more and work out for five hours on Saturday and Sunday. My friends want to go shopping and see a movie, but I balk at this. The thought of sitting in a darkened theatre, surrounded by fat slobs chowing down on greasy popcorn and regular pop and having to sit still---thus burning no calories---sets my nerves on edge. While Sarah and Lizzie spend a sedentary two hours staring at a screen, I will be going on a nice long run. Running is my addiction. It's like no other. The further I run, the more empowered I feel. There is a satisfaction in knowing I am running twenty miles per day, with two days off to swim for three hours. How many people could withstand all that pounding on the pavement? Well, even though I am esconsed in rippling fat, I am steadfastly and systematically whittling it away, piece by piece, pound by pound. By Christmas I will have the body I have craved for so long. And while most people pile on the pounds on holidays like Christmas, I will eat next to nothing. No plum pudding, no candies, most definitely no turkey dinner with all those disgusting, artery-clogging greasy properties. Not only are the calories a horror show, but that kind of slop can cause heart attacks. There are so many food-related diseases in the world today, that those of us who starve are in far less dangerous territory than those fat slobs who pig out on a regular basis.
So why am I so desperately unhappy, lonely and affection-starved? My friends and family don't know me at all. If they did, they would stop with comments like, "Why don't you eat more? Do you want to get sick?" "Are you anorexic?" And the truly bizarre: "Do you honestly think you look good at this weight?"
Hey, it's none of your business, fat slob! I exercise like a mad fool, eat no more than four hundred calories a day and my body is clean and thin. I'm thin because I want to be. Do you get it? Fat is the enemy. Laziness can lead to obesity. Obesity can result in suicide. So yeah, I like being thin and you can't handle it. Plain and simple. If you eat and lead a sedentary life, you will end up so heavy that you will be unable to leave your house. You will spend your life lying in bed and eating three whole chickens a day, countless potatoes and two complete pies and you will DIE very, very young. Does that sound like a good idea? Idiots. I don't know why I bother with such unenlightened fools. You bore me. And I don't know how you can look yourself in the mirror, as fat as you are. You're disgusting and I want nothing to do with you.
. . . . .
Tuesday was a very special time for me. I am going to be so happy and elated to finally have a great deal of power over the fatness that is my wonton enemy. How can anyone stand to live in a body rippling with fat? Not me. Here is the list of exercises that must be strictly adhered to:
5:00 AM: Go for a ten-mile run, running five miles per hour.
Total time: 5 hours. There is to be no faltering. Five hours a day and no less. Possibly more?
There you have it: My well thought-out plan of action. I am willing to bet that all the fat slobs out there don't do a lick of exercise; Well, I guess if you count attacking a huge steak with a knife and fork as some type of workout regimin that can burn calories like crazy, then yes, these pathetic idiots do "exercise."
7:00 AM: Strenuous calisthenics for 60 minutes. If there's no sweat, I'm being a lazy slob.
