MORBIDLY is such an unflattering word.
January 9th 2007 02:52
Today I found out I was MORBIDLY obese. The way I typed the word is how it seems to sound in my head whenever I hear it. Mega super sized emphasis on MORBIDLY .
The definition of being MORBIDLY obese is being a hundred lbs over your "ideal" weight. Ideal is quoted and I'm saying it very sarcasticly in my head. If I knew how to type in a sarcastic way, I would type "ideal" in that fashion.
So, here's the thing. I have found out why people have eating disorders. It's because of the word MORBIDLY . Who wants to be MORBIDLY anything? Except maybe MORBIDLY cool and chic. No one definitly does not want to be MORBIDLY obese. I figure this word is the cause of so many girls out there sticking their fingers down their throats. Maybe if they started calling it morbidly anorexic or morbidly bulimic then people would stop doing it. Maybe if they called it "Fluffily overweight" or something a little nicer, people who need to eat a sandwhich, would you know eat one. But, then Oh my God, the world would have to look at fat people. We're not trying to get you skinnies to fatten up, we're trying to get the fatties to skinny down. Right?
That's how the world works though doesn't it? We love and laud the overly thin. Girls that look like over priced bobble heads walking around with their big granny glasses. Nicole Richie has gotten more publicity from her eating disorder than her tv show. Nicole Richie has no discernable talent other than sticking her finger down her throat, and being fed through a tube, and she makes the front headlines.
I know what you're "Uh oh! Fat girl on a rampage." WEll what the fuck ever. I don't SEE myself as MORBIDLY obese, and was quite shocked when I found out I was. I like curvaceous, and I can even live with plump. What I do know is I don't want to be a 115 lbs like the chart said I needed to be. WHAT THE FUCK?!?! The last time I was 115 lbs I was like 12. The chart was gracious enough to allow me to be 155 lbs. Gee thanks. I was shooting for 180. Fuckers.
You wanna know what my problem is? Who said that?!? Who said it's not being able to put the pie down?!? Oh I'll get you, whoever you are!! No, my problem is that I live in the wrong ERA. YEah. That's it. When people plump and full and fleshy was considered hot and sexy. It was a sign that your husband was a good provider. When I walked around the art museum the other day, I saw a lot of women like me, and a particular statue that made me want to weep with joy. Everywhere I looked I saw pooches and pouches and breasts, strong arms and thick legs. It was like being in heaven. It was like finding my home.
Maybe I'm just bitter. No scratch that. I'm MORBIDLY bitter. In this country I am the majority but treated like a second class citizen,
The definition of being MORBIDLY obese is being a hundred lbs over your "ideal" weight. Ideal is quoted and I'm saying it very sarcasticly in my head. If I knew how to type in a sarcastic way, I would type "ideal" in that fashion.
So, here's the thing. I have found out why people have eating disorders. It's because of the word MORBIDLY . Who wants to be MORBIDLY anything? Except maybe MORBIDLY cool and chic. No one definitly does not want to be MORBIDLY obese. I figure this word is the cause of so many girls out there sticking their fingers down their throats. Maybe if they started calling it morbidly anorexic or morbidly bulimic then people would stop doing it. Maybe if they called it "Fluffily overweight" or something a little nicer, people who need to eat a sandwhich, would you know eat one. But, then Oh my God, the world would have to look at fat people. We're not trying to get you skinnies to fatten up, we're trying to get the fatties to skinny down. Right?
That's how the world works though doesn't it? We love and laud the overly thin. Girls that look like over priced bobble heads walking around with their big granny glasses. Nicole Richie has gotten more publicity from her eating disorder than her tv show. Nicole Richie has no discernable talent other than sticking her finger down her throat, and being fed through a tube, and she makes the front headlines.
I know what you're "Uh oh! Fat girl on a rampage." WEll what the fuck ever. I don't SEE myself as MORBIDLY obese, and was quite shocked when I found out I was. I like curvaceous, and I can even live with plump. What I do know is I don't want to be a 115 lbs like the chart said I needed to be. WHAT THE FUCK?!?! The last time I was 115 lbs I was like 12. The chart was gracious enough to allow me to be 155 lbs. Gee thanks. I was shooting for 180. Fuckers.
You wanna know what my problem is? Who said that?!? Who said it's not being able to put the pie down?!? Oh I'll get you, whoever you are!! No, my problem is that I live in the wrong ERA. YEah. That's it. When people plump and full and fleshy was considered hot and sexy. It was a sign that your husband was a good provider. When I walked around the art museum the other day, I saw a lot of women like me, and a particular statue that made me want to weep with joy. Everywhere I looked I saw pooches and pouches and breasts, strong arms and thick legs. It was like being in heaven. It was like finding my home.
Maybe I'm just bitter. No scratch that. I'm MORBIDLY bitter. In this country I am the majority but treated like a second class citizen,
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Summer Banks
Romance Writers
Comment by Anonymous
-T.C.
Comment by David my David
Morbidity?
Morbid. adj. 1. (of the mind, ideas, etc) macabre, unwholesome, sickly. 2. colloq. melancholy. 3. Med. of the nature of, or indicative of disease. [OED].
Um, stupidity? Morbid stupidity, or stupid morbidity?
Bring back the Botty-Celli women of the Re-Nuisance era …
Give me fulsome breasts and erect, fulsome nipples, and shapely tummies ... a bit of roundness in the stomach thanks ... I bit of shape ... where the belly button is hidden in the cavity of shadows (FUCK! Losing it here. be back in a minute ...
Okay, back.
(calm ... sort of ... composed ... sort of ...
Give me love handles ... and peary golden arses ...
I don’t want to suck a woman’s ribs, thanks. Big turn off. If I want to salivate over exposed ribs, I’ll order Pork Spare with a bit of black-bean sauce thanks … and go the whole take-away Asian approach (not the wasted-away one) ... Asian Pork Ribs? Heaps of meat on the bones ... HEAPS! I get a Hard-on. But please ... for me? Not an anorexic/bulimic woman’s body sweating out last year’s juices from the one lettuce leaf she ate, and couldn’t spew up because her system absorbed it.
My scary toilet bowl? I don’t just have anorexia and bulimia … I have PPSD? Post-Porcelain-Stress-Disorder. (From driving too many big, white Porcelain Buses? ...
It’s time a few of these women learnt where to stick their fingers, I reckon. Give themselves a bit of pleasure. If they don’t like eating? Suck on a dildo? [No calories]. Or have a protein milkshake? [Have a few?].
Much better things in life for a woman to stick down her throat than her own fingers. And much better things for women to do with their fingers than shove them down their own throats. I could name a few:
1.
My cock crows in the morning and wakes me up. (Hug a cock today. Be animal-friendly and feather-friendly. Give him a few kisses. Imagine he's been cooked and is on your kitchen table. Shit swallow him to show him how much you love him. Say to the cock. I want you inside me.)
2.
My pianist mate plays wonderful music. (practice humming his tunes with your tonsils)
3.
My HARD-ON approach to life. (Get a bit of my attitude into you)
4.
My bolt needs a spanner to screw it in properly. (Come and hold my bolt. Be my apprentice).
5.
My Shlog of a Blog-a-log. (Imbibe my words. Inhale them).
6.
My head is so full of information I want to pour out. (Bring your two-page exercise book over. Open it up. And I’ll pour out my mind on the inside of your pages).
7.
My single-eyed approach to life. (Come over for a bit of an interior dissertation and philosophical dissection. Let’s talk interiors).
8.
My tool of trade? The main one? A pen. Is it? Yup. (Come over and have a feel of what a real writer uses).
9.
My rod? When I go fishing? With Gail Bait? (Come. Come fishing with me. Bring your cockles and mussels. I’ll use them for bait and piss Gail off in a golden-shower kind of way).
10.
Dick? My mate Dick. (Dick? He’s an in your ‘face’ type of guy. If you don’t want him in your face? Wrap your legs around him. Put him in a World Championship Wrestling, Mr ‘George Barnes’ Wrestling, or Mario Milano ‘Scissor Kick’ Hold. But hold on for a while. Don’t let him wriGGle free.
What I’ve written?
It means I love your post. It's my way of un-morbidly flattering you. It gave my mind a workout … And I love posts that have the ability to do that …
David …