I like descriptive language. Language that conjures up an image in your mind.
Thus I have just been reminded of “Kummerspeck” which the author of the article correctly translates as “grief bacon”. For those of you either dim or preoccupied with other things: Grief bacon is when you eat BEYOND HUNGER because something is eating away at you, like grief.
So you are unhappy, you eat. Which means that an awful lot of people in this world (no, not the starving – they don’t have the means to drown their grief in a bacon sandwich) must be unhappy. Forget the BM index. Measure your unhappiness in wobble. Don’t you dare: I have already patented this amazing piece of intellectual property in copyright. All I now need to do is write it all down and get it on the market.
My father once remarked (and yes, I do know I have mentioned it before) that if I, his daughter, were driving down the motorway and the radio would announce that there is a ghost driver coming their way I’d think to myself: “What do they mean, ONE? Thousands.” I took it (not) hard. Though as character assessments go it was on the harsh side. Still, being my parents’ daughter I am thick skinned. I smiled to myself – and it’s true. Going against the trend.
Going against a trend. Doesn’t make you popular on its own. You have to charm people in other ways rather than just contradicting perceived wisdom.
Yes, so in short, when I have ‘Kummer’ (grief – even lightweight one) I lose all appetite. The last thing I need when gnawing away at a piece of shit fate has buried for lean times is food. Stomach shuts down. Most effectively. I can barely eat one of my beloved apples.
Do you know what a syllogism is? All cows are animals. Not all animals are cows.
So just because I am slender does not mean … Don’t worry, I have lost my own line of reasoning in the course of this meandering … not least slightly distracted by the remnants of Big Bertha having arrived at the South Coast: Hale bashing against the window. Thunder in the middle distance.