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• EDGE May 13, 1987

NO FATS NO FEMS

by Mark McNease

Dane yds. It was a stupid habit, real-

anny winced every time he read

ly, almost masochistic. His satisfaction was paradoxical: On one hand he quivered at the very thought of intimacy with one of these briefly but explicitly described slabs of beef; on the other hand it served to assure him that contact would be limited to a phone call cut painfully short when he described himself with any honesty.

His great consolation was knowing that half of them were lying, and the other half would die of frustration trying to find those who weren't. It was this knowledge that had kept him from blowing his brains out as a means of escape from a world that offered him glares and disdain, reminding him at every opportunity that the least he could do was wear loose clothing. And for godsake stop dying that hair. Fat platinum blonds had yet to find their way in vogue.

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