Unhelpful

Today I met the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.

I found her in a drug store while looking for shaver blade replacements as I was walking past the hair care products.

She was waiting for me in aisle six.

I am at once compelled and frightened by my feelings for the Funky Chunky Girl. I am intrigued by the dichotomy in her personality evinced by the dual nature of her portraits. She is in this not unlike a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats, where the texture and goodness of the wheaty side is locked in an epic struggle for dominance of the breakfast table with its Dionysian frosted side, packed with tasty guilt-ridden sweetness.

Observe:

Funky.

Chunky.

The complexity and depth of the anguish and rage evident in the funky side magnifies the innate charm and carefree enjoyment of life which the chunky side so clearly captures.

Please, uncaring universe, grant me the love I so desperately deserve. Release unto me the Funky Chunky Girl.

Thanks in advance.Argue