When I see a really attractive person:
That person looks like they could be really attractive.
That person IS really attractive.
Wait, why are you so attractive?
I think I love you.
Are you even real?
Like, how is this possible?
Adonis walks among us.
I feel changed from seeing you.
I could be that attractive…if I tried.
Trying’s for losers though.
I like my weight. It’s lovable.
I have a really nice face.
But you have a nicer face.
I’d like to eat an éclair off that face.
I hope you’re not lovable.
I bet you’re really not smart.
I hope you lack any semblance of wit.
I hope you have nothing to contribute in group conversations.
Sex would probably be awful.
You’re probably really insecure about it.
That bone structure though.
Where can I get an éclair right now within walking distance?
I’m gonna nap first though.
Monday would be good.
The title of this article would imply that I do not think I’m attractive. This is not the case. I think I’m fairly attractive. I have a “nice” face. Or rather a “listening” face. People must see it and think I must be a good listener because I get earfuls on a daily basis. I indulge them, naturally. How’s your compost bin? Please tell me more about your mother’s dementia. Did you ever get that stuff figured out at the DMV?
Adult onset residual babyfat is real. And not just in the physical sense. When I was a tubby little big kid, I remember thinking I would be hot some day. I would magically transform from duckling to swan after puberty hit. It didn’t really happen, and I find myself still in this state of fantasy, that things will magically become much more fantastic than they already are, without needing to try.
I think I secretly get off on the idea of not giving a fuck. I’ll smoke my lungs out of commission, so that there’s no chutzpah left for stepping foot into the gym. I’ll eat whatever I want because my body is only going to decline as time progresses, so why the fuck not? I’m as resilient as I’ll ever be, right? Also, the fact that Hollywood has unrealistic standards on what is beautiful to see on screen makes me want to scream bloody murder and eat my way into diabetes as a big FUCK YOU.
We’re told that in this phase of our 20’s, we can afford to be somewhat careless. “Carefree.” However, the older I get, the more I’ve come to discern that this time may be the most important in laying the foundation for my future. Quitting smoking will only become harder the longer I wait. And I guess the doctors are saying that incorporating physical activity into your daily life is “good” for you. Whatever.
The older I get, the less time devote to stupid things, and for that I’m proud. And I guess the progression never ends. I want beauty in my life, in every possible way. And in order to welcome that, I need to push the unnecessary out. Identify bad habits, change the way I view them, cut them out, and try on a better quality of life for size.
Here’s hoping it fits.