By and copyright of Owen Quinn author of the Time Warriors and Zombie Blues
More Zombies, more trouble. Welcome to book 2 of Zombie Blues who give us their view on the world and life from behind undead eyes. This time round meet Diabetic Zombie, Racist Zombie, the Ice Queen and why is there a zombie with no teeth? Now on Amazon
Social Media Hater Zombie
In this day and age it is so important to look good especially for posts on social media. The amount of likes we get is an indicator of how much people love us. At least, that’s what this celebrity culture has brainwashed us to do.
My name is Magda Holt and I’m overweight. While they say it’s all about what you eat and exercise, this isn’t exactly true. Genetics does have a big part to play in it. In a way I’m glad the world is soaked in the undead because the one thing that died with the apocalypse was judgement.
I grew up in the Netherlands, the birthplace of our famous giant bodybuilder Olivier Richters and up until the apocalypse I worked as a call centre operations manager.
Coming from a large family, my parents fed us well but it was the usual supermarket choices that were dictated by a budget. There’s nothing unusual in that as every family does it but my father was a great cook who could create feasts out of the smallest of morsels. At least he grew vegetables in his greenhouse which seemingly never stopped growing. It became a little side line for him as the neighbourhood began buying his wares. Our back garden became an allotment of sorts and we all chipped in. It was exciting for us as kids because our Dad was literally God feeding the street. As kids we played in the streets just like everyone else in our street but Dad’s vegetables made us slightly special in other kids’ eyes.
The countryside was our giant playground and summers seemed to last forever as we explored and played amid Mother Nature herself. Mother shooed us out in the morning and we retuned when we were hungry or tired. It gave her time to do her cleaning or catch up with Mrs Schneider about the goings on amid the neighbours. Unlike now we didn’t worry about bad men taking us or hurting children. Life was an eternal summer. Now it is a storm, a cacophony of wailing tears. We must have pissed Mother Nature off somehow playing in those fields; not that she is telling us in detail her reason for the infliction. When I think of growing up the images of playing in the woods and the fields having so many adventures down by the streams is all I can think of. We ate wild blackberries and gooseberries, made daisy chains and explored ponds filled with tadpoles and newts.
Up until I turned I had nothing but great memories of nature. It was a love that never left me and I encouraged my kids to explore the great outdoors as often as possible. Television was a rationed luxury and our social media was telling each other ghost stories, drawing or pretending to be in a girl band.
In my day body image wasn’t an issue. It was a bit like the generation gap. You just got a clip round the back of the head for giving cheek to your parents.
But now it is. The internet and celebrity culture has flooded our minds with images of how we should look like. We have lost the joy of revelling in what we look like. My husband, Alper. has never complained about my curves. Indeed from the first time we made love in his parent’s basement, he insists he loves a bit of fat on his steak. Five kids later his love of my steak never dwindled.
Neither of us was perfect. Despite being a fireman, Alper was never shredded like those in this calendars they sell and I have yet to have an hour glass figure.
The Time Warriors and Beyond 