Saturday, 30 October 2010

The secret to perfection.

Willis says that her legs are too thin. Whilst this is obviously fucking stupid, it is lovely to have these glimpses into a world where something can be too thin. Why is this so fucking stupid? Because Willis has a perfect body. The pursuit of perfection is paradoxical. Perfection is not something you can work for; not physically, anyway. Perfection is what you obtain when you sit back and realise that, you know what? If you bloody want some cake then cake is what you should bloody well have. Let them eat cake? Let me eat cake. A perfect body which is one that is nourished, and nourished for the right reason- the right reason being that that is the right of your body. No more, no less. There is one simple reason why you should eat, and eat enough, and that's because you cannot live otherwise. YOU CANNOT LIVE. You can survive on very little, for a horribly inhumane amount of time, you can subsist. But you cannot live and you can never even realise what perfection is. The demons get louder the less nourished a body is and their volume and the fact that they are more real, more alive, than a malnourished shell, are what stops the realisation of what perfection really is. The demons shout for their survival. The body must shout louder for its.

Perfection isn't a size. Perfection isn't even a confidence, confidence is the secret to being attractive. Perfection is respect, nourishment and opportunity.

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