In light of my recent realisation that I am the most paranoid person known to man, the thoughts that I used to deem ‘regular’ and ‘normal’ have now taken on a different role other than to taunt me until I cry myself to sleep- they are actually quite amusing. I am incredibly pensive and paranoid, which makes for a deadly combination of absoluting arse-melting analysis and general questioning of every little encounter I have with people. And this isn’t just your run-of-the-mill paranoia (‘Does that person like me?’ or ‘Did I offend them when I said I didn’t like the book they recommended?), oh no- I wish. Sometimes I worry that the concept of social etiquette had escaped me totally and, after meeting some poor, unassuming acquaintance who didn’t have to forward thinking to cross the street to avoid me, I just said, ‘Fuck off, you ugly scroat-bag’ and walked off with a sandwich board saying ‘I am a rapist’ on it in permanent marker.
So when the realisation that my writing style suggests that I am packing the pounds, I had to laugh. Then run out of the room crying.
It’s not so much that I write things like ‘I am fat’ that suggest I’m fat to others. Its the words that I write- a more easy-going, less vain individual would have no problem writing the word ‘babe’ to a friend, shutting down their computer and getting on with their day. But after writing the word ‘babe’ to a friend in a Facebook comment the other day, I envisioned myself saying it with a big mouthful of cake. Then I realised that the word ‘deffo’ looks like the words ‘toffo’ and ‘hippo’, and it hit me- I write like I need to lose the spare type of fat word-ness hanging aound my waist.
We buy things that attach our own image to that of a product, so why not the words we speak? My mother is forever telling me to stop cursing because I portray myself as vulgar (which I am *weep), so naturally, this has trickled down to the age of technology where we all converse online, so we do judge others on writing style and the words we choose to say. And if I’m putting in the hours down at the gym then I’m going to have to insist that my writing style follows suit.
All of this is based on the assumption that we all give any sort of a flying fuck about what others think, and make it an important factor in our lives. But in true paranoid style, I truely believe I am alone in this one and no-one else on earth worries that they write like they need to join Weightwatchers. But believe me, when I am inevitably forced to join websites like ‘SecondLife’ in order to meet people because my boyfriend has left me for fear he will start stabbing me to death and no-one wants to be my friend, I’ll have to drop a few leagues down the list because I’ll be e-Fat.
Working on that self-esteem, one irrational thought at a time.