“Love Yourself” –
Go ahead, try it… I’ll wait. Did it
work? Me either. However, if I think of
Platitudes the Platypus (who is Australian, obviously) it’s all better. I imagine her saying something like “I’ve got
a duck bill on me face, I’m round and have webbed feet. Surely
you can love yourself, you’re pretty much
normal if you can ignore those malformed pinkie-toenails. By the way, you have beautiful hair.” Platti
is just like that, self-deprecating, terrifically complimentary, and she is
always envious of my shoes (though she insists I keep them on cause of the
mutant pinkie-toenail).
“No pain, no gain” - Oh contraire, of all the weight that I’ve gained, I can’t think of a single ounce
that hurt me. I remember bottomless
eating with all the fondness of a Peruvian coal miner thinking of
sunlight. Platti rolls her eyes at me, and
says sternly, shaking her bill “Don’t be contrary.” How
can I argue with that? Cause she’s
right, I’m just trying to be clever to mask the fact that I’m a poor sport.
“Your body is a
temple” – If that’s true, there really is no hope. I am 100% domestically disabled. My house looks like someone twisted is curating
a museum featuring sales rack Ann Taylor Loft suits and candy wrappers. Stuff everywhere, in excess. Same with my other “temple,” extra stuff all
over the place. Platti then soothingly tells
me all about how she has to eat annelid
worms and insect larvae,
freshwater shrimps,
and yabbies to stay healthy enough to produce milk
for her babies. I roll my eyes
and ask if she just made up “yabbies”.
She didn’t.
Analid worm and yabbies
“Nothing tastes as good as skinny/healthy
feels” – To that I say: have you ever had
a Kobe beef burger? Platti can’t even
make that one better, I just want it noted that I think Japanese beef trumps
Kate Moss body.
Eat up.
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