The Skinny on Personal Weight

When you step on the scale in the morning, you instinctively have an ideal number in mind. However, the number that needs to appear on the scale is not the one that you would like for yourself, it is the one that society has already chosen for you. In today’s modern society, everyone is much more involved in each other’s lives. An individual no longer bears the responsibility of deciding how much they should weigh in order to achieve a happy and healthy lifestyle; society has started providing that service free of charge.

There is no longer any reason to worry about appearing undernourished. If your figure is deemed too slim by the public, they will simply provide helpful comments and recommendations, such as “eat a hamburger,” to help you attain a socially acceptable body image.  Their suggestions are so insightful! Although some may present a jealous façade towards your slender body, it is simply reverse psychology, and they are trying to tell you in a gentler way that you do not look like everyone else; you need to change. Why would one want to stand out in society? We need to work hard to attain a body similar to everyone else. But don’t work too hard, you wouldn’t want to have a fit image or lose too much weight.

Overweight individuals struggle in modern society if they don’t listen to the helpful hints of others. Not only do programs from established companies such as Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig teach one how to manage and reduce their weight, they are so committed that they actually tell their program participants when to stop. It is so considerate of them, because a company would not want to be known for making people skinny. That kind of reputation could destroy a business. Companies such as these have found the perfect balance for making their clients a socially acceptable weight.

The fact is: society cannot handle an excess of slim and heavy individuals. We must all be the ideal weight. Once you attain that weight, tread carefully. If you dare gain a pound or two, then you have just been labelled “fat” and your weight loss regiment should begin immediately. If you dare exercise and lose a pound or two, then you are too skinny and need to order a Big Mac, ASAP. If you dare think about skipping a meal because you are simply not hungry, then you are a newly diagnosed anorexic. It is a tedious task to attain your socially acceptable personal weight, but don’t worry, society is here to help.

Expectations and Anticipation

             I awoke early this morning and pried myself out of bed carefully as not to jostle Jillian. She was up late studying last night and never seems to get enough sleep. To start my day, I showered and shaved. I put on a large pot of coffee so that there would be enough left for Jill to take to her first class of the day. My travel mug filled with the rich, steaming coffee; black. Before leaving for work, I tied my running shoes and buttoned up my black winter coat with a poppy pinned to the lapel; it was almost Remembrance Day. I was ready for the long day ahead of me.
             I could tell that the biting fall air was continually growing colder. Many of the houses on our block were still dark. My shoes scuffed along the pavement. Each morning I look forward to my walk to work; Jill has a greater need for the Camry as her classes are on the other side of town. At first I detested the walk, but I have grown accustomed to the time alone to wander along the path of my thoughts.
             “Good morning, Stephen,” Fiona greeted me from the front desk. It was only 8 o’clock in the morning and the office was already buzzing with the anticipation of the upcoming holidays.
             “Morning, Fiona. Any messages for me?”
             Fiona shook her tousled curls and replied, “No, not yet. Oh, but I should remind you that Mr. Rupert is coming to meet with all of you at 2 o’clock sharp.”
             “Right,” I began, “I’ll cut my lunch break short then but it’s not a problem.” I adjusted my glasses nervously. For my lunch break today I had planned to go shopping for a gift for Jillian; an engagement ring. Her birthday was this weekend and it was the perfect time to propose. She had begun hinting months ago with bridal magazines, wedding blogs, and honeymoon destinations. I understood perfectly but appeared oblivious to her. We had been together for 5 years, living together for one, and things were perfect. The only thing missing was the diamond ring on Jill’s left hand.
             I buried myself in work for the next 5 hours. Usually when people exclaim how boring accounting is, I disagree with them. However, my job lately has been growing more and more tedious. On this day in particular, I sat at my desk going through the actions of my work day and counting down the minutes until I could escape to go ring shopping.
                As soon as the clock struck one, I was off for my lunch break. I had a measly 60 minutes to do one of the most important tasks of my life. I walked at a brisk pace as the mall was 3 blocks away and I had no time to spare. My first stop was Michael Hill Jewellers. I began carefully examining their extensive showcase of engagement rings. The consultant behind the counter was friendly, but I declined her help; this was something I wanted to do on my own. Next, I moved on to People’s Jewellers. I appreciated their assortment, but I was becoming increasingly worried that the perfect ring was not yet within the grasp of my wallet. Each ring I asked to examine was attached to a disappointing price tag. Deterred, I started wandering throughout the mall. My hands were fidgety with anxiety; my car keys rattled in my coat pocket. I shamefully kept my head down as I walked. 1:37 pm. I had only a few minutes left to spend at the mall before attending another monotonous meeting. Before exiting the mall I stopped one last time, at David’s Tea; specialty tea was Jill’s favourite. I bought several varieties for her to try while also providing myself with an alibi for going to the mall in the first place. I presented my credit card and paid for the small gift. It was going to have to do for now. The cashier handed me the bright blue bag.
                “Have a great day, sir,” he said with a smile.
                “Thanks,” I replied, but I knew it was simply too late for that.

         

An Innocent Answer

“So who is she?” Rebecca snapped. Simon peered up from his paper.
            He replied, “What on earth are you talking about, dear?” Simon sighed and returned to the business section of the New York Times.
            “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she remarked. “Where have you been every night this week? You don’t return home until I’m fast asleep!”

            “I already told you, dear. I’ve been working late; I’m in the running for a big promotion.”

            “Sure,” Rebecca sneered, “that’s exactly what you’ve told me, but I’m not stupid Simon! I know exactly what is going on here!”
            Simon groaned, “And what exactly is going on?” His eyes still lingered on the results of the daily stock exchange.

            “Don’t play dumb, Simon! You’ve been leaving for work earlier each morning, and wearing cologne. When I call you at work, you are always conveniently in an ‘important meeting’. You arrive home late each night long after you know certainly well that I have already fallen asleep. The last time we ate dinner together was last Wednesday, dare I go on?”
            “You have nothing to worry about dear; I have just been working late,” Simon uttered in response.

            “What is her name?” Rebecca’s eyes began to brim with tears. “I know there’s another woman, and now you can’t even tear your eyes from that mundane newspaper to look me in the eye.”
            Finally Simon turned to face her, “You’re right. I have been acting peculiar lately.”
            “That’s it? That is all you have to say?” her face reddened in anger. Simon folded the newspaper neatly. He then placed it on his antique bedside table and turned out his lamp.
            “That’s it,” was Simon’s final reply. He calmly pulled the blanket up to cover himself and lay his head down on the pillow. Simon was sure of only one thing: he would be the only one getting any sleep that night.

Short Story Analysis: Eli

           How can anyone be trusted in a world where doctors cause pain and police are corrupt? The short story Eli by Vincent Lam exemplifies how unethical decisions can have unpredictable outcomes. Set in a hospital, the story describes the relations between two police officers and a doctor after an injured prisoner, Eli, is brought in to be treated. The author focuses on imagery, conflict and irony to deliver the full impact of his message.

            Imagery is interspersed throughout the story to add a dramatic effect. A foul mood is established immediately as the doctor regards the room as “nauseating to breathe, with the closed-in smell of piss and sweet-sour human stench.” Also with strategic uses of imagery, Eli’s non-life threatening injuries are exaggerated to seem critical and repulsive. The injury is “a straight gash from the hairline to the top of the nose.” To add effect, the author adds that “the blood flowed hot, an anxious stream.” These simple uses of imagery are enough to make a reader’s stomach queasy.

            The story is made suspenseful through several variations of conflict. The most prominent conflict is between the two police officers and the doctor. It is first recognized when the doctor concludes that the police want to “play a modified version of the game.” As the encounter continues the police become increasingly irritable, complaining how “this sure is getting complicated.” Not only does the doctor conflict with the police, he also struggles with an inner conflict. He is aware that the officers most likely injured Eli themselves, and contemplates whether or not his own morals and ethics are in question through his actions. Furthermore, the story is based around Eli’s conflicts with both the police officers and the doctor. First Eli becomes a victim of police brutality, and later suffers abuse from the doctor as well. Eli asserts his rage towards the doctor by “lung[ing] quickly [while] officer 6982 jump[s] back.” The different conflicts within the story lead each character to erratic actions.

            The course of the story is also laced with irony; it is essentially the foundation of the story. The setting is a hospital, often denoted as a place of healing. However, in this context the hospital is the backdrop for abuse, deceit, and unethical actions. Also, within the hospital the “screaming, struggling, calm-down-or-we-tie-you-down room" is ironically named the quiet room. Similarly, doctors are supposed to be those who perform the healing, but instead while treating Eli, the doctor “dart[s] the [tongue depressor] further into his mouth, gagg[ing] him hard… and let him retch, grunting against [it].” Members of the police force and doctors are supposed to be honest and just, but this story takes the opportunity to display contrary personas. The use of imagery, conflict and irony enable the story to be extremely realistic. The short story is so realistic that one might begin to question just how much he can trust all of those around him.

College Application

        If I told you my biggest accomplishment in life has been graduating from high school, I would be lying. I have done so much more.

         I once travelled from the North Pole to the South Pole in one day, on water skis. I once travelled to the harbour of Rio de Janeiro to get a tan. I once travelled to the peak of Mt. Everest to see the view. I once slept for 14 hours.

        On Mondays, I communicate with dolphins in the depths of the Mediterranean Sea. On Tuesdays, I put out forest fires single handed. On Wednesdays, I wear pink. I am fluent in English, Spanish, Dutch, French, and Braille. Gabby Douglas is jealous of my agility. Kim Kardashian is jealous of my hair. Coco Chanel is jealous of my style. I wish I was left handed.

        I spend my days rescuing dogs in Russia, saving seals in the Siberian Sea, and petting parrots in Panama. I eat Kraft Dinner for lunch. I have read every encyclopedia. I have swum with Michael Phelps. I have scaled the Empire State building. I have been on every ride at Disneyland. Twice. Last year, I swam in the Grand Canyon. Last year, I drove from Salt Lake City to Hong Kong. Last year, I sang the national anthem after the Canucks won the Stanley Cup final. Last night, I ate a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream.

        I am on a mission to save the world. In my free time, I replant the Amazon rainforest. In my free time, I clean up an entire oil spill using my toothbrush. In my free time, I replenish the world's water supply. In my free time, I fix the holes in the ozone layer. My house uses solar power. My cell phone bill is paperless. My laundry is washed in cold water. I recycle.

        I am nocturnal, ambidextrous and amphibious. The Spartans shudder at the mention of my name. I have a summer house in Vatican City where the Pope attends my birthday parties. He always wins the raffle. I swam with dolphins, drank pina coladas and learned to surf, but not in Hawaii; in my backyard. I eat two bite brownies in one bite.

        I am considered the 8^th Wonder of the World. I am the dancing queen. I am not a college graduate.

Of Mice and Men: Continued

          Slim and George sat down at the bar. Slim put a hand on George's shoulder and stated, "Like I said, George, sometimes a guy's gotta."
          "I knew I had to do it. I tried to fight it tooth and nail, but in the back a my mind, I knew it needed to be done. I was shaking in my boots and almost got cold feet, but I did it anyways." George put his empty glass down on the polished counter.
          "What's done is done, George. You tried your best. I think it's time that the both of us turn over a new leaf. Why not do it together?" George's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.
          "What on earth do you mean, Slim? I don't have anywhere to go and not a cent to my name." Optimism flowed from Slim's reply, but he spoke gently as not to startle George.
          "Listen here, George. Your past with Lennie, that's just water under the bridge. You and me, we already have the tools of the trade. We work for a year, scrape up a little pocket change, and we could be running our own ranch. At this point, either you sink or you swim. I'll help you swim George. We'll just start by keeping our heads above water, laying low at the ranch for a little while. Don't even worry about Curley either, he doesn't have a bone to pick with you now that the big guy's gone. If he even tries to pick a fight, he's in hot water because I won't stand for it anymore. All bets are off in that case. We'll just pack our things and go after I show him a thing or two. We can find somewhere else to work. Just a small stake and we can be running our own ranch. I heard the land's dirt cheap up in Oregon! We may have to work our fingers to the bone, but it'll be worth it. No one else calling the shots, it's about time that it's our turn. There's no time like the present. So how about it, George?"

Grade 12: Bitter Freedom

 
            It looms in the impending darkness. A thought so polluted with expectations that it is hidden in closets below skeletons. The word itself makes thousands of grade twelve students everywhere shudder: Graduation. Their final day of certainty is commemorated with a ceremony and a diploma, at last releasing the students into the unknown. An “arrangement in degrees, levels, or ranks,” seemingly defies the goal of equality which echoes throughout society, but is the very definition of graduation. The newly crowned “Grads” envelop themselves in the laborious preparation, but how can one prepare for the unfamiliar and unexpected? For seventeen years these adolescents have had their lives planned out, their future set. School became simply a mandatory routine. However, after their final ten months of high school dissolve into the past, there is no longer a required path for them to follow. School has taught these graduates many things, but has it taught them how to live? University professors are not accommodating to a lack of preparedness with test re-writes and study sessions. Using the Pythagorean Theorem will not help pay rent. The timeline of World War 2 will be of no benefit during a pharmaceutical job interview. School teaches one how to be a student. Once these routine stricken young adults are released from the safety pen that is high school, the future is solely up to them.

One Might Think Her Name is Dana...

          One might think her name is Dana, but no one is quite sure. There are only three things one needs to know about her: she is always tired, she is always hungry, and her hair is ridiculous. Sure, one might think that these are typical teenage qualities. However, these traits remain unknown to the rest of the world. Like a chameleon, she masks her flaws with the aid of naps, snacks, and a 400 degree curling iron. Ten hours of sleep may be enough rest for an average 17 year old girl, but not Dana. Only a minimum of twelve hours is enough to quench Dana's need for sleep. Otherwise, her eyes flutter during her last period English class and she can no longer resist the urge to yawn. Throughout her exhilarating class of English, not only are her eyes attempting to close against her will, but a Bear's growl occasionally escapes from her stomach. Hunger has set in. Without a morsel of food within her grasp, Dana quickly transforms. She becomes irritable, her fatigue worsens, and there is a chance of her fainting. As a preventative measure, her bag is always well equipped with food. Dana also prepares herself for a long day by fabricating her hair to look socially acceptable. It is a tedious task, but she never denies a challenge. With a full night's sleep behind her, perfectly polished hair, and a granola bar in her hand, Dana is ready to take on the world.

Deep Down

On cool afternoons I wonder.

I wonder how the birds fly so high

flipping and flapping in the sky,

and why they never fall.

I wonder if there really is a man on the moon

and if he waves every night,

but we just don't see him.

Maybe he waves like a mother seeing her child in a parade,

but we don't take the time to notice.

To notice the beauty in every day

and to appreciate things before they fade.

Before everything fades into the nothingness,

a state that some of us know all too well.

We know it like it's our best friend.

It grabs hold and doesn't let go

but the bounds of emptiness aren't indestructible.

We can take hold of something new,

something better than the days we never want to end.

Something that saves the people walking the streets

who you don't take the time to meet,

or say hello.

Something buried inside yourself,

that everyone told you was too good to be true. 

Write for your life

Dana Klamut
123 Pikme St.
Penticton, B.C.
V2A 1A1

February 2, 2012

Captain Draude

Commander
HMS Princess Margaret

O Captain, My Captain:

During these past few hours at the bottom of the ocean the reality of our situation has begun to sink in. I know you have an overwhelming decision ahead of you, and I hope that I can make it easier. I've been making some observations about our class, and it has occurred to me that more than half of our class is male. Usually, having a male dominated class wouldn't be of any importance but in our current situation you may find it could persuade you to spare my life. In my free time prior to our field trip I began researching the basal metabolic rate, BMR, in both males and females. The smallest amount of energy the body uses to stay alive is referred to as the BMR. It is a fact that females have a lower BMR than males, and since I am a female I use less oxygen than the boys. The logical choice in this situation would of course be to rid the submarine of oxygen devouring boys first. As well, I would spend my time sleeping to try and consume as little oxygen as possible rather than pacing like some of my classmates. With only girls left alive your decision may seem more wearisome, but I know you'll make the right choice. Teachers always say they don't have favourite students, but deep down all students know you truly do. Since you are of course my favourite teacher, I have no doubt that I am your favourite student. As a result, how would it look if you killed your favourite student who admires you as much as I do? I'm sure no school would want to hire a teacher who kills her favourites, and I wouldn't want you to have a future such as that. At this point, I am sure that I have left you with no reason to kill a delightful student such as I, who uses practically minuscule amounts of the remaining oxygen in the submarine. I wish you the best of luck as you announce to the others the perturbing news.

Sincerely,


Dana Klamut

About Me

When she woke up and rubbed sand out of her eyes the realization of where she was finally started to sink in. Her foot steps felt as heavy as the barrels she had seen being loaded onto the dock at dusk last night. The soft wind made her hair dance as she made her way through the maze of the old house and out onto the veranda. The floor boards creaked and made her wonder just how ancient the house may be. The house's age didn't matter to her though, because of the fact that it was hers and she loved it. The air was made of salt, filling her lungs as if she was already in the depths of the ocean. The waves stood still as she recognized exactly where she was, paradise. Her past was behind her as she thought, "It doesn't get better than this."