THE AMERICAN WEIGH

I’ve been in Rome for almost 4 months now, and in all that time I have felt really good about myself. Physically, that is. I haven’t felt fat or heavy or “thick” or whatever. I feel good and it makes me look good. No one talks about diet or carbs or any of that horse shit and mashed potatoes here, and as a result we are all just happy the way we are, and everyone is a heluva lot more laid back about themselves. At least I am.

Why then, does it surprise me, that now that I am going back to Los Angeles, the vainest city on the planet, that I feel the pangs of self consciousness creep back in.

“Fuck man, have I gained weight? Do I look fat, shit, I wonder?… Shit I did, I am fat, fuck….I can’t go home like this, ok- I’m gonna diet for the next two weeks, and exercise…” and my brain goes on and on like this.

How does this happen? And seemingly overnight. One day I am prancing along the street, owning the situation, and the next minute I am checking and double checking the bathroom mirror- examining my faults and shortcomings like a fucking grand jury.

Fucking America.

I’ve decided that America’s obsession with diet and weight is akin to Right Wing Conservative’s obsession with Jesus. And by that, I mean this: Even if you don’t subscribe to their belief, you still somehow feel like maybe you should. Or, that, if you are fat, or say, a heathen- somehow they make you feel wrong for doing your own thing.

Not that I feel wrong- at all. It’s just all a part of that same self righteous, dogmatic bullshit.

If I disagree with the self mutilation someone has to endure to fit into a size 2- I am regarded with the same distasteful looks, as if I walked into Mass and yelled “Jesus is a cunt”

Because- they all look at you as if they know better. Because in America Thin equals healthy. And you should be thin, because it will be better for you in the long run. Which to me, makes about as much sense as embracing Jesus in my heart will be better for me in the long run.

Says who? What the fuck kind of logic is that? Seriously.

And both are sold to me with equal amounts of zeal and fervor.

Which makes me want to use a purely California phrase- GAG ME WITH A FUCKING SPOON.

So I can know all this- and I can think esoterically about weight and size and self consciousness, and even Jesus. BUT. Can I put those thoughts into action in the next few weeks while I am in the devils mouth?

We’ll see. We shall see.

Ciao box.