Reflections on One's Body
All the things I like to do are either immoral, illegal, or fattening. I was reading an essay by Alexander Woolcott and felt a tad ill. I went out with a perfect friend for dinner last night, and the mixture of potato and enchilada didn't agree with me at all. But then again, why would one eat a potato substance with an enchilada? There is no such thing in anyone's life as an unimportant day. Yet, I found myself in bed being very aware of my stomach and thinking that I even look fat when lying on my back. The actual test of being overweight for me is standing up naked; if you can't see your genitals, you are too fat.
I felt an anxiety attack was on its way. It didn't help that I spent a tremendous amount of time yesterday in the bathtub reading short stories by Patricia Highsmith and Edgar Allan Poe. I felt like I was a subject matter for a photograph by Larry Clark. Totally wasted and very nervous about going out that night with my friend. She is gorgeous, and with me looking fat and disgusting, I didn't want to appear together because I felt it would make her look bad.
To calm myself down, I tried to visualize myself in a painting by Paul Cézanne. It took me five minutes, but I started feeling the tropical heat, which made my body feel better. The great thing is that when I stood up again, I looked down and could clearly see my genitals.