Dear Steve Strange,
I have recently lost weight due to some heartbreak, but it really seems to be staying off. When the numbers on the scale started to drop, I anticipated all sorts of happiness. But all I got is that my clothes fit me rather unflatteringly. I am afraid to buy new things for a svelte new me, afraid this is just setting myself up for failure. Where is all the joy I was promised if I would Just. Be. Thin.
Sad in a Sack
Well, helloooo there, Sack, I know you were expecting Steve, but I really think he could use a break, don’t you? The man is looking positively haggard. The bags under his eyes remind me of Canal St. Vuittons. No, Coach. I believe this is where the guttersnipes of today say “Snaps.” Or some other spot of nonsense.
Let’s talk about me, since I am already before you, commanding attention, shirtless, taut and iconic. I like to change my look quite a bit, and I will be the first tell you the answer to “when?” is never! Nothing will ever be good enough, so you might as well enjoy your journey. That’s the point of this little teacup ride, right? Have you considered plastic surgery? You get painkillers with that. The room does spin a bit faster post-op.
So what does it really matter: eat up, or not; actually, I never eat. Eating demeans us all. In these times where even I have had to cut back on my sartorial allowance (I have dispensed with shirts in order to remain abreast of trends in fur), you might consider tailoring, and be sure to advise the tailor that you predictably plan to become fat again at some point so he can leave a seam allowance.
Now cheer up, and put down that sandwich!