there are so many reasons fictional characters could and should be fat but they're drawn skinny as a rail for no other reason than people think everyone should be skinny to be loveable.

example: guy who drinks a lot of alcohol, like a whole 6 pack of beer every day, is somehow drawn thin as a rail. that guy should have a beer gut and be as wide as a house. why are you drawing him thin

example: woman who is body positive (especially about fat bodies) and is kinky and loves sex AND loves eating is somehow skinny as a rail despite there being an entire kink fixated on eating a ton of food and another kink around appreciating fat bodies. same woman was raised in an orphanage and is trans, likely had to starve herself (which a prior history of starvation can lead to weight gain) to fit the ideal mold of what a trans person "should" be to be able to transition in the first place but is now leaning into hedonism and "if you don't like me the way i am then fuck you" attitudes. why are you drawing her thin

example: person with impulse control issues who even has a quote about how they eat even when they're full. their parents are also notably fat. somehow despite obvious signs of binge eating disorder and having fat people genes is the same size as most of the average characters of their birth assignment.

EDIT: THOUGHT OF ANOTHER EXAMPLE

example: this guy doesn't do much physical activity given that he's the token non superpowered guy in a group of superpowered people, mostly uses his brain as his "superpower" (he's just really smart lmao) and has a diet consisting of instant ramen and candy. somehow is one of the thinnest characters there.

example: this guy can shapeshift into a huge tiger the size of a 6 foot tall human basically, which would logically require a lot of body fat and calories to sustain without pain, EXTREME amounts of stretch marks, or some sort of chronic fatigue. is even joked about in the manga about having "love handles". eats tons of food because of his history with starvation (another factor in weight gain and fatness is previously being starved as i stated in the second example). SOMEHOW is, according to his stated height and weight, UNDERWEIGHT.

like. do you SEE the problems i'm talking about

chapter 11 paragraph viii

Inside the parking garage, which vibrated depressingly with olive-green light, there were a number of empty spaces in the long-term area despite the Full sign. As we nosed into the space a man in a sports coat lounging against a white Range Rover threw his cigarette in a spit of orange cinders and walked toward the car. His receding hairline, his tinted aviators and his taut military torso gave him the wind-whipped look of an ex-pilot, a man who monitored delicate instruments at some test site in the Urals. “Victor,” he said, when we got out of the car, crushing my hand in his. Gyuri and Boris received a thump on the back. After terse preliminaries in Russian, a baby-faced curly-headed teenager climbed out of the driver’s seat and was greeted, by Boris, with a slap on the cheek and a jaunty seven note whistle: On the Good Ship Lollipop. “This is Shirley T,” he said to me, rumpling the corkscrew curls. “Shirley Temple. We all call him that—why? Can you guess?”—laughing as the kid, unable to help it, smiled in embarrassment, displaying deep dimples. “Do not be deceived by looks,” said Gyuri to me quietly. “Shirley looks like baby but he has as much onions as any of us here.” Politely, Shirley nodded at me—did he speak English? it didn’t seem so— and opened the back door of the Range Rover for us and the three of us climbed in—Boris, Gyuri, and me—while Victor Cherry sat up front and talked to us from the passenger seat. “This should be easy,” he said to me formally as we pulled out of the garage and back out onto the Overtoom. “Straightforward pawn.” Up close his face was broad and knowing, with a small prim mouth and a wry alertness that made me feel somewhat less agitated about the logic of the evening, or the lack of it: the car changes, the lack of direction and information, the nightmare foreignness. “We are doing Sascha a favor and because of that? He is going to behave nice to us.” Long low buildings. Disjointed lights. There was a sense that it wasn’t happening, that it was happening to someone who wasn’t me. “Because can Sascha walk in bank and get a loan on the painting?” Victor was saying, pedantically. “No. Can Sascha walk in a pawn shop and get a loan on the painting? No. Can Sascha due to circumstances of theft go to any of his usual connections from Horst and get a loan on the painting? No. Therefore Sascha is extremely glad of the appearance of mystery American—you—who I have hooked him up with.” “Sascha shoots heroin the way that you and I breathe,” said Gyuri to me quietly. “One stitch of money and he is out buying big load of drugs like clockwork.” Victor Cherry adjusted his glasses. “Exactly. He is not art lover and he is not particular. He is utilizing picture like high interest credit card or so he thinks. Investment for you—cash for him. You front him the money—you hold the painting as security—he buys schmeck, keeps half, steps on the rest and sells it, and returns with double your money in one month to pick up the painting. And if? In one month he does not return with double your money? The painting is yours. Like I said. Simple pawn.”

“Except not so simple—” Boris stretched, and yawned—“because when you vanish? and bank draft is bad? What can he do? If he runs to Horst and calls for help on this one he will have his neck broken for him.” “I am glad they have changed the meeting place so many times. It is a little bit ridiculous. But it helps because today is Friday,” said Victor, taking off his aviators and polishing them on his shirt. “I made them think you were backing out. Because they kept cancelling and changing the plan—you did not even arrive until today, but they do not know that—because they kept changing the plan I told them you were tired and nervous of sitting around Amsterdam with suitcase of green waiting to hear from them, you’d rebanked your moneys and were flying back to U.S. They did not like to hear that. So—” he nodded at the bag—“here it is the weekend, and banks are closed, and you are bringing what cash you have, and—well, they have been talking to me plenty, lots of time on the phone and I have met with them once already down in a bar in the Red Light, but they have agreed to bring the painting and make the exchange tonight without prior meeting of you, because I have told them your plane leaves tomorrow, and because they have fucked around on their end it is bank draft for the balance or nothing. Which —well, they did not like, but they accepted as proper explanation for bank draft. Makes things easier.” “Much easier,” said Boris. “I was not sure how bank draft was going to go over. Better if they think the bank draft is their own fault for dicking around.” “What’s the place?” “Lunchcafe.” He pronounced it as one word. “De Paarse Koe.” “That means ‘the Purple Cow’ in Dutch,” said Boris helpfully. “Hippie place. Close to the Red Light.” Long lonely street—shut-up hardware stores, stacks of brick by the side of the road, all of it important and hyper-significant somehow even though it was speeding by in the dark much too fast to see. “Food is so awful,” said Boris. “Sprouts and some hard old wheat toast. You would think hot girls go there but is just old gray-head women and fat.” “Why there?” “Because quiet street in the evening,” said Victor Cherry. “Lunchcafe is closed, after hours, but because semi-public nothing will get out of control, see?” Everywhere: strangeness. Without noticing it I’d left reality and crossed the border into some no-man’s-land where nothing made sense. Dreaminess, fragmentation. Rolled wire and piles of rubble with the plastic sheeting blown to the side. Boris was speaking to Victor in Russian; and when he realized I was looking at him, he turned to me. “We are only saying, Sascha is in Frankfurt tonight,” he said, “hosting party at a restaurant for some friend of his just got out of jail, and we are all of us confirmed on this from three different sources, Shirley too. He thinks he is being smart, staying out of town. If it gets back to Horst what has happened here tonight he wants to be able to throw up his hands and say, ‘Who, me? I had nothing to do with it.’ ” “You,” said Victor to me, “you are based in New York. I have said you are an art dealer, arrested for forgery, and now run an operation like Horst’s— much smaller scale in terms of paintings, much larger in terms of money.” “Horst—God bless him,” said Boris. “Horst would be the richest man in New York except he gives it all away, every cent. Always has. Supports many many persons besides himself.” “Bad for business.” “Yes. But he enjoys company.” “Junkie philanthropist, ha,” said Victor. He pronounced it philanthropist. “Good they die off time to time or who knows how many schmeckheads crammed in that dump with him. Anyway—less you say in there, the better. They will not be expecting polite conversation. This is all business. It will be fast. Give him the bank draft, Borya.” Boris said something sharp in Ukrainian. “No, he should produce it himself. It should be from his hand.” Both bank draft, and deposit slip, were printed with the words Farruco Frantisek, Citizen Bank Anguilla, which only increased the sense of dream trajectory, a

track speeding up too fast to slow down. “Farruco Frantisek? I’m him?” Under the circumstances it felt like a meaningful question—as if I might be somehow disembodied or at least had passed beyond a certain horizon where I was freed of basic facts like identity. “I did not choose the name. I had to take what I could get.” “I’m supposed to introduce myself as this?” There was something wrong with the paper, which was too flimsy, and the fact that the slips said Citizen Bank and not Citizen’s Bank made them look all wrong. “No, Cherry will introduce you.”

Farruco Frantisek. Silently I tried the name out, turned my tongue around it. Even though it was a hard name to remember, it was just strong and foreign enough to carry the lost-in-space hyperdensity of the black streets, tram tracks, more cobblestones and neon angels—back in the old city now, historic and unknowable, canals and bicycle racks and Christmas lights shaking on the dark water. “When were you going to tell him?” Victor Cherry was asking Boris. “He needs to know what his name is.” “Well now he knows.” Unknown streets, incomprehensible turns, anonymous distances. I’d stopped even trying to read the street signs or keep track of where we were. Of everything around me—of all I could see—the only point of reference was the moon, riding high above the clouds, which though bright and full seemed weirdly unstable somehow, void of gravity, not the pure anchoring moon of the desert but more like a party trick that might pop out at a conjurer’s wink or else float away into the darkness and out of sight.

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INJURY & SCARRING.

After his difficult, incredibly one-sided fight against Rappa alongside Fat Gum, Eijirou was left with a multitude of injuries — including but not limited to: fractures in both wrists, fractured left forearm, deep lacerations across both arms up to his biceps — that should have taken months of healing and rehabilitation to recover from under normal circumstances. Thanks to Recovery Girl’s efforts, Eijirou’s injuries were almost completely healed within a matter of weeks, with only minor rehabilitation and close monitoring needed.However, for all her incredible healing feats, Recovery Girl is not a miracle worker, and she was unable to prevent the terrible wounds inflicted upon Kirishima’s arms from scarring. Paired with the vicious nightmares he suffers from in the following months, Eijirou found it very difficult to come to terms with everything. He hated that whenever he looked down at his arms, he would be reminded of his failure and the past he’d tried so hard to bury since arriving at U.A, and he hated that his scars would draw the stares of those outside his classmates. He hated having to constantly face the knowledge that he wasn’t as strong as he or others believed him to be.Over time, Eijirou begins to accept his new appearance, to the point of even viewing his scars with a sense of pride. He considers them a benchmark of sorts, a reminder of what he’s lacking and where he still has room to improve, but also that he faced down a terrifying villain despite his fear. Regardless of how things turned out, he has no regrets.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Eijirou possesses hypermobility ( or “double-jointedness” ) within his fingers and thumbs, which allows the joints in his hands to stretch farther than is considered normal. When he was young, he developed a habit of playing with his fingers when lost in thought or nervous, something which his mother hated and tried to get him to stop from doing. After he began to experience joint pain and was warned that it could very well be a sign of early-onset osteoarthritis, he managed to cease his habit ( much to his mother’s joy ), but in recent times he has since begun cracking his knuckles in the midst of tense situations.

Eijirou has broken many bones in his youth, ironic given the nature of his quirk. As a child, he was always quite clumsy ( and reckless, at times ), which led him into a great many unlucky and somewhat dangerous situations such as: falling out of trees, jumping off bridges into rivers/lakes, exploring abandoned or decrepit buildings at risk of collapsing. As it stands, he has broken his left arm twice ( forearm fractures ), his right wrist ( a distal radius fracture ), right leg ( tibia shaft fracture ) and index finger on his right hand.

Eijirou suffers from Temporomandibular Disorder ( TMD, or TMJ ), which is a problem affecting the “chewing” muscles and the joints between the lower jaw and the base of the skull. He experiences frequent clicking and popping noises whenever he tries to move his mouth or chew, infrequent muscle pain around the jaw, and at times, difficulty opening his mouth due to his jaw feeling tight and/or stuck. He has had special mouth guards made to wear at night to prevent jaw clenching and grinding his teeth in his sleep, a method which is steadily making a difference, in addition to carrying out a series of lifestyle changes suggested by his dentist.

Eijirou is very outwardly expressive in every manner of speaking; he wears his heart on his sleeve and is very easy to read, much like an open book. From his open expressions to the varying tones of his voice, he expresses himself with unrepentant honesty ( lying is something he finds abhorrent, anyway ), and has no qualms with voicing his innermost thoughts. In spite of this, Eijirou is not above gently cushioning the truth in an attempt to spare the feelings or lessen the blow of said truth when it comes to those he cares about. He’s a people pleaser at heart, someone who strives to be both honest and good.

Eijirou is an incredibly animated speaker, especially when he’s excited about whatever he happens to be talking about; he uses enthusiastic and sometimes odd words to punctuate his point, often making wild, expressive hand gestures and different tones to emphasise particular phrases.

He finds it incredibly difficult to sit still for any amount of time, even when situations actively call for it: e.g. in class, exams or important meetings. When he finds himself in such situations, he’ll tap his feet, play with his fingers ( a habit he’s still trying to break ) or crack his knuckles.

Exams are quite literally the bane of Eijirou’s existence. While he’s by no means ‘stupid’, he has a great deal of trouble with retaining information for certain subjects and as such, it takes intense and frequent studying sessions for anything to really sink in. It doesn’t help that a lot of the time the material he’s attempting to study doesn’t capture his interest. For Eijirou, making the information memorable and/or enjoyable to learn about is key, or a lot of the time it will simply go over his head regardless of his best efforts.

Eijirou’s intelligence isn’t exactly what one might call conventional or ‘the norm’ — when it comes to exams or subjects he’s not entirely invested in, his ability to retain information is abysmal. Instead, his strengths lie within his people skills and his ability to pick things up near effortlessly in a situation that requires him to be more hands-on. He is extremely adept at reading the atmosphere or quickly understanding the motives and/or motivations of those around him, and he commits this knowledge to memory for the benefit of himself or his friends in the future. He is, in addition, quite ‘street-smart’ due to growing up in a suburban environment.

As someone who follows his heart as opposed to his head, Eijirou highly values interpersonal relationships and knowledge of those around him over cold, fact-based logic. Because of this, he tends to unconsciously ( sometimes consciously ) observe those around him in order to figure them out and by making use of this information, he is able to make quickfire decisions in the heat of a moment and/or swiftly reach an understanding of a situation.

Despite his ability to read people and reach quick/precise conclusions, he doesn’t always think his actions through and has a habit of recklessly throwing himself headfirst into a dangerous situation without any consideration for himself or the potential consequences. This is a more recent development ( not without setbacks ), something he partially attributes to being surrounded with a bunch of rowdy, gung-ho classmates. Mostly, he’s tired of not being able to do anything and seeks to bolster his own bravery by forcing past his own hesitation and proving to himself that he can be the hero he wants to be.

4/3/17 - Rolling With the Punches

Life definitely wouldn’t be nearly as interesting as it is without some type of personal struggle. Too much of a good thing is just as bad as too much of a bad thing. Everything is literally quite green on the other side. California is pretty much out of it’s drought so everything looks beautiful fully bloomed. Things are great out here, however, it’s never quite perfect. 

I went to the beach with my roommates for the first time in what seems like years, and it was humiliating. I’m nowhere near fat, or look unattractive, but as someone who used to workout every day on top of riding bikes every day and finishing the day with healthy, home cooked meals, I definitely realized that I’m nowhere near the shape I used to be in, and have been losing weight at a very unhealthy rate because I’ve been slacking off so badly for at least a solid three months due to moving and getting back into routines. 

Without working out, I’ve lost my appetite and my metabolism has definitely slowed down. I’ve lost all my muscle weight and while I’m at a net loss for weight, I’ve gained fat in place of where muscle once was. On top of that, me not eating has resulted in a loss of day to day nutrients, and I’m starting to feel fatigued way more often then I ever have. It’s made me struggle mentally sometimes, and I’ve had a hard time dealing with simple day to day stresses. 

Parking in California has got to be one of the most ridiculous things ever. If a sidewalk is red, you can’t park there. Where I live, I swear that people park their cars on the street and then leave them there while they die in their apartments. Of the people that are actually using their cars, none of them clearly know how to parallel park, so where a parking space, or ten should be, there is just short of a parking space. I should be able to park in the apartment complex, but there’s only two cars allowed per apartment, and my roommates have filled those two. Even if they weren’t filled, usually parking is too full and overflows into the street, even if it’s supposed to be counted for to prevent that from happening. After a ten hour shift with healthy stress at work, it sucks coming home to walk half a mile from your parking spot to the apartment because there’s no other spots available since people never use their cars or know how to park. 

I’ve made some friends, so I’ll always have friends to go and ride with, but that’s about it. I haven’t had much time to do anything, let alone find friends. So the few times that I do end up going out and doing things, it’s either with my roommates, or alone. It’s mentally tiring having to always do things alone, but for now that’s just the way that it goes. 

Things in my apartment have been fairly decent, but at times my roommates don’t exactly make things easier. Whether it’s slacking on chores and then passive aggressively writing notes to get chores done when I’ve already done mine and everyone else’s, or it’s waking up at seven in the morning to my roommates who are in a relationship fighting, there’s always some kind of stress. We put our names on things in the fridge so we know who has what, yet my food is still always getting eaten. Sharing a room was supposed to be simple, but my roommate has already complained several times about my music, which was something agreed upon before moving in. Surprise surprise, people lying just to make something happen without thinking of the consequences, right? To make matters worse, I have enough stress as it is, but I always have to hear about hers, even if it’s petty, immature bullshit that any logical adult should be able to deal with. For example, an ex boyfriend is harassing her, so she spends an hour complaining to me about it when I don’t have time to listen to it, but she doesn’t want to block him from messaging her. 

On top of that, I came home from a show for the first time at almost three in the morning the other day to find out she was having a guy over. That would’ve been cool, had she told me so I would’ve known. Another part of our agreement was if we were having people over, to let the other person know so there wouldn’t be issues, but whatever. So I don’t sweat it, but then they keep me up for a solid half hour after lights out because they won’t shut up or stop laughing, and now I’m slightly aggravated, but she’s been stressing so I let it go. I wake up at about seven in the morning (only hours later), because they’re up and talking to each other. Now I’m really aggravated, but I keep my mouth shut not to embarrass her. I’m in the middle of making some music on my laptop when she comes over and asks me to leave the room so they can have sex. She notices the look that I give her and asks me if I’m annoyed. When I tell her yes, she then tells me to be considerate. At this point, I’m ready to break my lease and move the fuck out. She still hasn’t mentioned anything, because she probably either realized she was being a total piece of shit, or just didn’t care. 

Not all stress is good stress, but no matter what hand you are given, you have to roll with the punches. I’m here for another ten months, and because of that, I’m going to do the best I can to keep myself going so that when the ten months are over, I can hopefully move into a new pad with my soon to be girlfriend and best friend. Despite long hours at work and not having time for much else, I’ve still managed to make the most of it. I’m on the verge of getting promoted, and if that happens, I’ll never have to stress financial standings, at least not for a while. In my spare time, I manage to take care of myself and do things I enjoy doing. With the money I’ve made from long hours, I’m about to buy my new setup for djing and that will be rewarding enough in its own for me not to have to stress for a while. 

One good thing about not having to deal with tons of friends all the time is that with all the alone time, I’ve had plenty of time to figure myself out. I’ve been able to direct myself towards a path full of music and a forward direction, and I don’t think I would’ve been able to do that if I was constantly surrounded by people. 

I may be out of shape, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost hope. Today I worked out for the first time, and immediately felt better then I’ve felt in a while, at least physically. You don’t ever need a gym to get/stay in shape. I run and do core workouts. You don’t need weights, or a gym for either, and both will be enough to keep you in a healthy shape. After my workout, I was also truly hungry, which is awesome because I haven’t been that hungry in forever, and I put nutrients from fruit and protein into my system. 

Despite things being a little bit toxic in the apartment, I stay hopeful that they will work themselves out, and if not I’m prepared to move into a place where I can for one sleep in a room by myself, but live in a situation under better circumstances for myself. I learned the hard way to avoid leases, at least for now. 

I may not have everything figured out right now, and I’m losing my train of thought as I’m writing this, but I’m getting there slowly. Two weeks ago, I didn’t think I’d make it to April, and now I’m on the verge of buying my DJ setup so I think the improvements are speaking for themselves. It’s okay not having everything figured out, and it’s okay to have stress, even if it’s not necessary. Sometimes, rolling with the punches is what makes us stronger at the end of the day. Healthy stress is good for improving us as people. Unhealthy/unnecessary stress is good for teaching us things in times when we don’t have to. This is a time of transition for me, from the end of my childhood to the start of my true adulthood. There will be a lot of things I don’t wanna deal with, but these are the moments where I can say that I’m growing into a true man that’s capable of handling anything that is thrown at me. If you’re reading this, keep pushing yourself. As bad as things might be for me with the bullshit, life is the best it’s ever been for me right now. I’d rather deal with what I’m dealing with now then anything in my past. I love my life and the direction it’s going. Maybe it’s always been this way, but I’m finally seeing it in this specific moment in the way it’s meant to be seen so that I can share it with others, and my future self. Spread peace and love!