My talking about Elly's fear of her children's candy and its potential to make her fat and ugly and miserable and so on and so forth reminds me of the other side of her unhealthy body image. I've already spoken quite about about her addiction to fad diets and the consequent squealing about the unfairness of the fact that they simply do not work and the yowling about the horrible injustice of being asked to like who she actually is instead of the insane and unrealistic ideal that she's fixated on being. Today, I'd like to talk about her being filled with despair because evil, conflict-causing men have somehow magically arranged the world so that she cannot instantly go from her current sedentary lifestyle to a jogging routine without physical penalty.
You see, every so often, it will occur to her that she needs to exercise away those fictitious ten pounds that are supposedly standing between her and the happiness that she isn't built to find. What generally happens is that muscles and joints not used to exercising rebel against the unaccustomed demands she's putting on them and, well, she's groaning in pain because she cannot do things. Also, she tends to reward herself for the grueling ordeal of mild physical exercise by slamming down a double-double and about two or three donuts at a Tim Horton's thereby defeating the purpose. This results in her not really losing weight and being miserable because of it. Not addressed is her idiotic belief that being thin will make her happy because that, my friends, would lead to the dangerous, evil and unfair question "Are you even capable of being happy, Elly?"