Skinny Side Up

Mood: Emancipated

I adore the invention of the term METRO SEXUAL from the core of my skinny bones.

The world has been getting sexier [for some men and most women] since the arrival of the metro-sexual attitude many moons ago. Looking good infected men and good looking men on cover magazine sells.

Men can now sulk over their less than ideal weight and wouldn’t get struck by lightning of masculine protocol for opening the emotional closet for an undaunted vanity to look good.

Finally:

I can now officially hate myself for being too lightweight and could get nods of *I have been there* approval from hunky friends who had graduated from the under 19 BMI community. Also, to try and bring Jason, who brought me to gym, a sense of pride by irritating him the steps necessary to turn me into three quarters of a hunk by the end of 2006.

Here is the emotional demon haunting what I think of my weight:

I am a bottomless pit for junk food. But I am also an ectomorph! *smirk*.

For every calorie I eat, probably only 0.1 of it gets deposited into good use in the body. The mystery of my life is explaining the other 0.9-mulitply by-28 years of my life-mulitply by-all the meals I ate in one year calories. For those who are nodding in empathy, writer *waves excitedly* and shouts out “Hi! I want to hear from you…”

This is a snapshot of my ectomorphic torso.

Whoever says that being an ectomorph is fun has to be those with BMI more than 19 like forever! Imagine if my body was a bank, and calories represent client’s money, I would have been liable to be sued for unaccountability for most of the caloric-funds. But even if the management embezzles funds in a bank, you at least know that the money has been put to hedonist end! But mine… NO!

I am like a high maintenance refrigerator that talks back to you….

I think slim and skinny people are far more likely to be neglected than people on the opposite end of the weighing scale. If I am obese and I declare a weight loss program, I will receive *thank god u see the light!* nods of approval and can rally my friends to discipline me into shape. Of course, it can help if they tease about your size to anger you into inspiration.

If I am slim and announce a weight gain program, there would be a temporary silence accompanied by *are u sure u need this?* stare, and u can bet on them to indulge me with “it’s ok if u fail to gain, for u r not obese or anything!” answers when I complain that the program is unfruitful….

I don’t want to be slim, my friends. The next time we meet up, surprise me with thoughts about how I can overcome my very lanky physique.

Uber sexual is as much a state of your mind as it is a state of my yearnings. Essentially, imagine a man who is in touch with his manly side, yet sensitive enough to connect emotions...put my face on it!

Cheers!