Truth is, thin people these days are tastier targets for public persecution and righteous indignation than Bill Gates and Marilyn Manson combined.

In today's thin-phobic society, it is crucial for the ordinary citizen not only to be deeply concerned about those with lower-than-average body weight, but to air his or her views regularly, in front of anyone who will listen, especially if that person happens to be thin.

I know, because as a thin woman, I am a frequent target of the body-image police.

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Some idle co-worker at the office will suddenly fix me with a censorious eye and announce, "You're tooo skinny." At social events, some acquaintance will invariably confide, with an embarrassed glance at the ground, that they "really do" think I need to put on a few pounds. And at a recent family gathering, a favorite aunt proclaimed, in front of everyone, that my family had decided I was too thin for comfort (theirs, not mine).

In fact, there's nothing wrong with my weight. (I can hear the warning bells in your head from here, but please read on.) At 5-foot-8 and 120 pounds -- measurements: 33-25-35 -- I am, in a word, slight, although not without a few fine muscles and gentle curves. "Slight," incidentally, isn't a bad word. I prefer to be called "slim," "slender" or "willowy," but I rarely get described in those terms. To most people I'm just thin -- a powerful word despite the fact that its synonyms include "flimsy," "insubstantial," "weak," "meager" and "puny."

Nevertheless, my metabolism has found its cruising speed. After a typically angst-filled and somewhat heavier adolescence, my weight slowly began to diminish until it leveled out, along with my neuroses, about five years ago. It hasn't strayed since. Thus, I reached a natural size I'm comfortable with, and the rest of the world began to writhe.

When my frame first began to rouse a call to action, I felt the need to justify my weight and reassure my concerned detractors. I pointed out that my doctor tells me I'm perfectly healthy, with low cholesterol, high iron and the right percentages of all the major vitamins and minerals. I eat a wide variety of foods, as much as I please, both good (fresh, nutritious, easy on the conscience) and bad (heavily processed, high in sugar and fat, proof of a benevolent God). I never diet, count calories or analyze the nutritional components of anything, but I do stop eating when I'm full, regardless of what's left over. My daily exercise generally consists of a long walk, an impromptu (and brief) wrestling match with the boyfriend and outsmarting the cat with a shoelace. In other words, I live my life as best I can, the bod takes notes and then it does as it pleases. But I have to swear on Gutenberg himself before anyone will believe that.

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