Oh, the hell you’re that naturally thin. This is not sour grapes, this is me saying I have naturally slender friends (Cinder, Paolo, Corinnette) that you make look gluttonous by comparison.
I think Keira Knightley is very beautiful and I like that she dislikes paparazzi and publicity shenanigans, but I do not like that I can see all the knobs of her spine and she hasn’t got the sense to stop shopping around the tired genetic excuse which could never possibly account for the degree of boniness to which she has descended in the last decade. I like tone and I like cheekbones, but when chicks get that kind of Predator protusiveness to their clavichles and elbows, I get this skeevy, recoiling feeling.
I can’t even look at animal bones. Ask my family about the Thanksgiving that I walked in to help clean the kitchen and my aunt hadn’t wrapped the remainder of the carcass in foil yet. I literally fainted. I could never be a battlefield nurse nor a professional taxidermist (as opposed to your hobby-taxidermy). Haven’t got the stomach.
So when I say protrusive bones skeeve me out, I’m not jumping on a thin-girls-are-anorexic bandwagon where the in-flight movie is Envy and we are all served with tall glasses of haterade by morbidly obese stewardesses selected specifically to make us feel good in comparison because we’re sick enough to mentally pit ourselves against other women. I’m serious. Bones like that freak me out and upset me and make me think of the Holocaust which then makes me want to cry until I vomit.
So for the love of God, Keira Knightley, if I have to see you in another goddamned Pirates of the Caribbean movie which all United States citizens are required by law to attend or face public headshaving, would you please eat spaghetti before stepping in front of the camera?? Thank you.
Anyway, here they are again. Showdown!: Shirtless with black bra edition — whose body rocks the party?