How thin is thin enough?

Quoting my lovely sis in law: “As thin as a toothpick, as light as a feather, as slim as a twig!”
But should it really be so?
Now that I have started to leave a long trail of loose GAP jeans on the wake of my new non-chubby self, I’ve started putting some thought into how thin I should really get.

If I consider how much I am weighing now and how much I weighed in average most of my adult life, I just can’t get back to that. I would be down to a size 4, probably, which would look down right cadaveric on my 1.75 meter (5.74 feet).
I don’t care what guys think of Giselle Bundchen (I’d rather think about hubby, Tom Brady, BTW), but I’ve seen her in person on a couple of occasions and she looks like a stronger wind could break her bones. I would be scared shitless (I know, not classy or ladylike, but more consistent with my actual thoughts and feelings about the subject) of bumping into things or bending too fast, which could summarise some adult activities I’m not ready to relinquish before I’m 96.
I know a lot of men go for that twiggy look, but I’d be more into guys that like the olive more than its toothpick. (Prudent usage of the verbal form that conveys I’m not single and my husband wouldn’t be too happy if I stated it in the present tense...). It’s just not natural by the way. What kind of normal man should like chicken bones rather than chicken legs? Their primordial brains should be thinking “Oooh! I can’t possibly perpetuate the species on that! I’ve gotta get me some meaty, pink cheeked, healthy gal to do.” Instead, they go against nature: skinny meanwhile big-breasted, quiet, silent, homebound, uncomplaining, saver: is this even a real woman? Maybe, if you don’t have a brain, get some implants and go through life feeding on greens and water. But wait! That’s a cow.

Back to the core subject, a friend of mine used to say that you know you are properly thin when you are able to run on your bikinis in the sandy beach.
At first this would look like a perfect metric. It’s all about being healthy and fit. However, after a certain age, no matter how thin you are, running on your bikinis is just not becoming of any sensible woman. It couldn’t possibly be a nice sight. For starters, gravity just won’t help.

Thus, I couldn’t yet reach a conclusion. GAP pants will keep on being left behind, waiting for a time to be re-fitted. In the meantime, if you see me one of these days and think I look too thin, first – thank you very much – second, tell me to stop this nonsense immediately.


Ady said...

Love this post! "I'd be more into guys that like the olive more than it's toothpick", "what kind of normal man should like the chicken bones rather than the chicken legs?" - pure genious!

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