Fat
Fat. It's existentially another entity living around my most empathetic and vulnerable sections. Why is it both profoundly endearing and yet so backhandedly repelling? If there is a love/hate relationship I would have with any one copious and belligerent old wine skin, it would be with my fat: What an unnecessary necessity. Have you ever grabbed your midsection, jostled it around and said, "You impertinent stowaway! When did you lichen your self on this vessel?" Neither have I.
