Baby, the Stars Shine Brite
The secret life of a girl.the strange confessions and dirty little secrets of a girl.
6.9.05
I have - and have always had - the kind of body that makes men want to make babies. I have always feared ending up a description of one of the women in Vonnegut's Slaugherhouse-Five:
"She was a dull person, but a sensational invitation to make babies. Men looked at her and wanted to fill her up with babies right away. She hadn't even had one baby yet. She used birth control." (218)
All the toning and running and weight lifting and dancing doesn't matter. From the delicate curve in the arch of my foot, to the gentle curve of my calves, to the blossoming of my thighs and hips, to the soft babyfat belly, to the inward curve of my waist, to the perfect pear shaped tits, to the supple fullness of my lips .... 50 or 60 years ago I would have been a goddess; today I'm lucky to get a second glance from anyone who doesn't want a mother and a trophy wife. Despite my favouring description I absolutely hate and am disgusted by my prefect specimen of a female body ... Well perfect in appearance as far as proportions go as it doesn't work all that well.
I hate voluptuous, womanly bodies. I like sticks, I like bones, I like the delicate airy beauty of emaciation. I like the conudrum of such great strength wrapped in such a delicate wrapper. To starve and be strong is also to make yourself weak. I love the translucent pale skin, I love the extra brightness of the manic in the eyes. I am absolutely obsessed with collar bones and hip bones, and delicate boney hands. I want a body that oozes grace .... Not a body that speaks of earthy goodness and with it's overabundance of soft flesh inviting everyone to possess it and fill it with babies.
It's fall - it's time to starve. Two years ago around this time I stopped eating ... And now I have no idea how such a feat was managed. I wish to Christ I could manage it again ... But I suspect I can't. I haven't hardcore fasted in two years. Around this time last year I was eating marginally and this year at the instance of a silly boy I eat. Regularly. Like daily even. Because he's perfectly okay (as suprising as this is to him) with having the desire to and filling me up with babies.
"She was a dull person, but a sensational invitation to make babies. Men looked at her and wanted to fill her up with babies right away. She hadn't even had one baby yet. She used birth control." (218)
All the toning and running and weight lifting and dancing doesn't matter. From the delicate curve in the arch of my foot, to the gentle curve of my calves, to the blossoming of my thighs and hips, to the soft babyfat belly, to the inward curve of my waist, to the perfect pear shaped tits, to the supple fullness of my lips .... 50 or 60 years ago I would have been a goddess; today I'm lucky to get a second glance from anyone who doesn't want a mother and a trophy wife. Despite my favouring description I absolutely hate and am disgusted by my prefect specimen of a female body ... Well perfect in appearance as far as proportions go as it doesn't work all that well.
I hate voluptuous, womanly bodies. I like sticks, I like bones, I like the delicate airy beauty of emaciation. I like the conudrum of such great strength wrapped in such a delicate wrapper. To starve and be strong is also to make yourself weak. I love the translucent pale skin, I love the extra brightness of the manic in the eyes. I am absolutely obsessed with collar bones and hip bones, and delicate boney hands. I want a body that oozes grace .... Not a body that speaks of earthy goodness and with it's overabundance of soft flesh inviting everyone to possess it and fill it with babies.
It's fall - it's time to starve. Two years ago around this time I stopped eating ... And now I have no idea how such a feat was managed. I wish to Christ I could manage it again ... But I suspect I can't. I haven't hardcore fasted in two years. Around this time last year I was eating marginally and this year at the instance of a silly boy I eat. Regularly. Like daily even. Because he's perfectly okay (as suprising as this is to him) with having the desire to and filling me up with babies.
