We had lots of suburban-types, trailer-dwelling-types, and they all had one thing in common: they looked unhealthy. Various body types walked across our lawn to glance at our junk so they could add it to their own junk, and they were usually bloated, flabby, saggy, nicotine-soaked or old. I didn't see any healthy-looking people come by, but then again, those types would've been at the mall or something.

It made me think about bodies. We don't have absolute control over them, otherwise we'd be physically perfect. Anorexics and Bulimics die or realize they're sick, some body builders poison themselves with steroids, some health nuts die of a heart attack or get hit by a bus, even the ones we think will live forever end up dying young or get shot at a conveinient store, Linda McCartney, a vegetarian, died of cancer; we can't be perfect, it's impossible. Once, I looked at this fat person and thought, "How does a person let that happen to them?" It sounds so stupid now, like he could've stopped it but didn't feel like it.

Why are we so focused on Control?

If I had control over my body, I'd have made my skin tone perfectly even, and not look like a 5 0'clock shadow, I'd have a size 5 shoe, a smaller butt I use to hate in Jr.High, firm abs, some muscle, buff biceps, bigger breasts, a deep deep pussy and higher cheekbones.

But I don't.

I don't think anyone has the right to tell someone else to look better, unless they themselves were absolutely perfect. I have to face the fact that others will comment on me, and I will absent-mindedly comment on others, and that it's all stupid anyway.