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Aug. 18th, 2001 | 12:30 am

You know, sometimes I get sick and tired of being given to bouts of depression at random times for random reasons.

Okay so the body image thing isn't so random. And yes, people have tried talking me out of it before. Yet for some rather obnoxious reason I seem rather unwilling to accept that I look anything other than an icky monster.

I can't really dispute this train of thought; because I think of myself as being far, far larger than any of the women around me. Yet the most annoying thing is that really and truly I'm probably about 20% heavier than my "ideal" weight. Which isn't that bad for an american in a desk job.

I could put lots of effort into trying to lose weight, but I don't because I don't see it making much of a difference. Even if I was my ideal weight I'd still be really stocky. In a land where the standards of beauty specify thin small and inoffensive, a girl who looks like she should be carrying around a broadsword is kind of frightening.

When I stretch my imagination and try and think of some style of clothing that wouldn't look like a blimp, I keep returning to ren-faire fashions.

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