Saturday, June 24, 2006
"Does this makes me look fat?"Soalan bonus and possibly, the most dangerous question known to mankind. In my opinion, the safest way to answer is probably to fake a coma until the whole ordeal is over, and it is perfectly safe to resume your position on the couch to watch the reruns of Portugal versus Mexico.
Now, you're probably not going to be asked this question by someone of the male persuasion. I'm a woman, SO I KNOW. For some reason or another, men do not care if they look fat, they do not care if they are fat, and they especially do not care if you think they are fat. Unless they are gay, metro, manorexic or unique, they will never, ever utter the words, "Does this make me look..." You're probably more likely to have them ask if they can cook dinner for you, or do the laundry. Every now and then you'll see a guy on Oprah, crying and saying how he's so much more confident now that he's lost four-hundred pounds. You know what kiddos? He's lying. He just wants a free car like the rest of us.
Most women, on the other hand, do care. They want to know if they look fat, what part of them looks fat, and why you don't love them anymore when you, with great courage and strength, tell the truth and say, "Yes, that makes you look fat, you cow." (And by courage and strength, I mean you're an idiot. Who would say a thing like that? Moron.)
It's a timeless thing, really. Women's aspiration to remain thin waisted, big breasted, and greatly desired by all things living - big or small. (Preferably big, but we'll talk about that some other day.) Throughout the years, women have tried every possible way of staying what the society considers "attractive". Eat less, exercise more. But now the world is moving faster than we can catach it, who has time for all that anymore? Sedey kan?
Why did this happen, you ask? When homo-sapiens became lazy, that's when. When it became possible to lose weight by popping a pill every day. Anna Nicole Smith (whoever she is) went from hideous, rich and huge to hideous, rich, less huge and drugged out. Who wouldn't want that? Pretty soon they're going to use weight loss formulas as seasoning for your Chicken Fan-tastic so you don't have to drag yourself off the couch to swallow your skinny pills. Won't that be a relief?
And now you ask, "iD, WHO CARES?" Sure, who cares. I'm sorry. This constant rambling is the result of missing him too much. I miss my boyfriend lahhhh. *bangs head on the wall* And sometimes just a part of me inside...wishes he misses me too. Does he? ='(
Of course you show more than words. But sometimes words mean a hell lot too. Rite, rul?
Everytime i cry.......does he know?
7:04 AM
