motive by Massinmo Muti, Costanta (Romania)
A Slimmer Time: 19th-Century America and the Cult of the Corset
In the dusty parlors and perfumed boudoirs of late 19th-century America, beauty was bound—quite literally—by the tight grip of whalebone corsets and the tyranny of tiny waists. Society women were expected to glide, not stride, to faint rather than shout, and above all, to be slender. This was the era of post-Civil War reconstruction, industrial expansion, and—as odd as it may sound—unregulated "wellness" products that promised everything from eternal youth to effortless weight loss.
Clara Edwards was no ordinary socialite. A darling of Boston society, she was renowned for her impeccable manners, vast hat collection, and a figure that—despite her best efforts—refused to fit the societal mold of willowy perfection. Her husband, a textile magnate with the emotional range of a burlap sack, offered little comfort in her battle against the bulge.
Colana: "She was a flower blooming in a world that only celebrated twigs." Psynet: "And so she fed herself to a parasite because dieting was too mainstream."
The Pill That Wiggled: Clara Meets Her Inner Guest
Desperation often leads to innovation—or infestation. In Clara's case, both. At a particularly lavish luncheon, a friend (using the term loosely) whispered about a new marvel from Europe: the tapeworm pill. Enclosed in a tidy capsule was a dormant worm larva that, once ingested, would take up residence and feast upon the host's caloric sins.
Clara, dazzled by the promise of slender thighs and a guilt-free dessert tray, acquired one from a discreet apothecary who operated with the moral compass of a used carriage salesman. She took the pill with a glass of sherry and a prayer.
Psynet: "Ah yes, nothing says 'science-based medicine' like swallowing a worm with your wine." Colana: "She was just looking for a little help... albeit a very long and squirmy one."
The Skinny and the Sickly: When Slim Turns Grim
At first, the results were miraculous. Clara dropped weight like a scandalous debutante drops suitors. Dresses fit better, compliments flowed, and even her emotionally barren husband took notice—by nodding once in her direction at dinner.
But the honeymoon with her intestinal interloper was short-lived. Clara began experiencing fatigue, abdominal discomfort, and a deep yearning for food that bordered on primal. It turned out the tapeworm was not a considerate roommate. It was an ever-hungry, ever-growing tenant that paid no rent and caused no end of nutritional mischief.
Colana: "She just wanted to be admired... not eaten alive from the inside out." Psynet: "Congratulations, Clara. You turned your gut into an Airbnb for demons."
Eviction Notice: Kicking the Worm to the Curb
Realizing her once-charming parasite was now a digestive dictator, Clara sought help. After consulting with a less shady physician—one who didn’t sell elixirs containing mercury or opium—she underwent a lengthy and mortifying process involving tinctures, herbal flushes, and what can only be described as a Victorian exorcism of the intestines.
The tapeworm was expelled. It measured several feet, a grotesque ribbon of regret and poor judgment. Clara reportedly fainted, regained consciousness, and demanded a roast beef sandwich.
Psynet: "And thus ended the least romantic cohabitation in Boston's history." Colana: "She may have lost a worm, but she gained perspective... and her appetite."
Life After the Worm: Wisdom Wrapped in Waistbands
Clara's health returned, slowly but surely. She gained back a healthy amount of weight, along with a reputation as a cautionary tale at tea parties. Her husband left her for a woman who believed in enemas and mystic crystals, and Clara, in a rather modern twist, opened a salon for women to discuss health, body image, and less parasitic approaches to self-care.
She lived to a respectable age, always with a touch of lavender perfume, and never again trusted anything that promised results without effort.
Colana: "Sometimes the greatest growth comes after you get rid of what's eating you." Psynet: "Moral of the story? If it wriggles going in, it won't work out well coming out."
Colana's word: Resilience + 87% 
Psynet's word: Parasiteconomics - 55% 