Bread, soup - these were my whole life. I was a body. Perhaps less than that even: a starved stomach. The stomach alone was aware of the passage of time.
When I see someone who is starved, they don't look alert. They don't have boundless energy. If you're too skinny, it looks like you're near death.
Hunger reduces one to an utterly spineless, brainless condition, more like the after-effects of influenza than anything else. It is as though all one's blood had been pumped out and lukewarm water substituted.
I'm not emaciated; I'm wiry. Most women find lean men appealing.
You eat anything when you need energy to survive and there's nothing in your body, when you are becoming just bones and tissues and muscles and I don't wish those circumstances on anybody.
And what can we expect if we haven't any dinner, But to lose our teeth and eyelashes and keep on growing thinner?
All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More food.
There are an awful lot of skinny people in the cemetery.
Starvation is incredibly frightening when it finally sets in with a vengeance. And when it does,you are surprised. You hadn't meant this. You say: Wait, not this. And then it sucks you under and you drown.
Swollen in head, weak in legs, sharp in tongue but empty in belly.
I either want to be completely recovered or completely emaciated. It's the in between that I can't stand, the limbo of failure where you know that you haven't done your best at one or the other: dying or living.
My nickname was Skinabo - 'skin and bones.'
I'm so not into being emaciated.
All sixteen mentioned her jutting ribs, the insubstantiality of her thighs, and one, who went up to the roof with Lux during a warm winter rain, told us how the basins of her collarbones collected water.
I don't exercise. I'm skinny fat. I worry about being too skinny. You should see my brother, he's, like, emaciated. We both just happen to be really skinny.
When I see a woman who is all gaunt and emaciated, I don't think she's beautiful. She reminds me of a Chihuahua that's freezing and shaking.
I was so thin I could slice bread with my shoulderblades, only I seldom had bread.
It is not only by the pores of the skin that this aqueous emaciation takes place. A considerable quantity of humidity is also exhaled by the lungs at each expiration.
