Maybe we have already passed the epoch of the body as an attribute, and maybe I’m just wasting time to lament the passing of time, but —
#1. My arms only fill up one half of the sleeves on my T-shirt. I yearn for three quarters.
#2. I wish to use the fat on my legs to dress my shoulders.
#3. Imagine football padding on a skeleton. Comic and unattractive. My upper body.
#4. There is such a thing as a thin person’s blessing: unlimited food intake. Or at least people seem to think so. Nothing I intake is taken by my body. I want food to grow from under the skin.
#5. I like baggy clothing. They make balloons out of my features.
#6. Mom said avoid black because the color “swallows” me. I wear it regardless. I wear black baggy clothing like a beast in the night, except I am smaller.
#7. Sometimes I fill the mirror with junk. The mirror knows & smiles ruefully. The mirror is particularly good at storing my emotions.
#8. I get scared by massive figures in the gym. They may be able to swallow me whole and make a shadow of my existence.
#9. When I choose to be a nocturnal animal, my skin deflates like a balloon in the morning. All my T-shirts run big.
#10. The mirror reminds me to check my shoulders before stepping into the shower. I do push-ups before leaving the room.
#11. There is no such a thing as a thin person’s curse. Or at least I seem to think so, when I repeat the mantra in my head.
#12. I wouldn’t stand a chance in football.
#13. Sometimes people tell me that I should work out. They say, laughing, “you are tall enough, but not strong enough!” I laugh too, saying, “yes, I’m comic and unattractive.”
#14. Sometimes I feel like nothing I feel is felt by anyone.
#15. Sometimes maybe only half of what I feel is worth being written about. I yearn for three quarters.