Battle of the Bones

September 26th, 2007

Battle of the Bones

Tonight I had to go to a work related runway fashion show featuring uninspired expensive semi-haute couture worn by skeletal models stomping down the platform, staring down the crowd (“how dare you think you’re thin enough to wear this!”), and blowing pretentious smoke up everyone’s ass. The models were so thin you could see the bumps on top of their shoulder bones, so thin their thighs rattled together above their haute heels, so thin you could smell their ketosis breath in the second row. Yes, I can be snide about it, but as I sat there, all I could think about was how inappropriately big my very real post-menopausal breasts are…how stretched out my stomach is from five pregnancies…how short and Shetland pony-like my body is. All of which means I bought into the media perception of what I should look like–and I’m media! I’m my own worst enemy. I was stricken to be so shallow. Then, when I was driving home, a molten silver full moon rose out of a dark cloud bank, its ripe curves ruling the night sky. Thwack! I will never be the crescent moon again. I will never have hip bones that stick out beyond my stomach. I will never have tiny breasts that ride above the punctuation marks of my rib bones. Yes, I miss my skinny 17-year-old body because it was me for many years, but I don’t miss my undernourished 17-year-old mind. My high school boyfriend reappeared in my life recently via a long distance phone call and probed for what I might look like now, desperately wanting to ask if I was fat but trying in a pitiful way to be politically correct. After asking if I was still diminuitive and listing the many machines he works out on, he said, “I think you should be the best you can be at any age.” I am, I thought, I am. Too good for you, stretch marks and all. I am the full moon rising, and it’s just the right phase for me.

One Response to “Battle of the Bones”

  1. the saint says:

    Joel McHale on THE SOUP was speaking of one of the Olsen twins grinding on the young male star on “WEEDS.” He said,”That must feel like being dry humped by a burlap sack full of Lawn Darts.”