I was surfing the internet in class the other day and came across some very interesting news photos.

As I scrolled through the slideshow, I came across a great shot of a decorative Halloween skeleton that reminded me of the Crypt Keeper from the opening credits of the old HBO show, “Tales from the Crypt.”

It was very decrepit and very ghoulish looking. But it wasn’t until I read the small caption underneath that I became truly horrified.

The very authentic-looking cadaver I was gazing at was actually alive, a model in fact, on a fashion show runway in France.

The skin on her face and back was tightly hugging her brittle, little bones and the designer clothing she was wearing hung off her body like very expensive rags. And as I slowly realized that her spine was actually protruding from her concave chest, it occurred to me that I was hungry.

Following my high-fat content meal, I began to ponder the irony of the two directions this country seems to be moving in. On one hand you have teenage girls who, for some God-forsaken reason, idolize no-talent trash like Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, and aspire to look like broom handles wearing sunglasses.

And on the other, you have bulbous circus freaks who attain nirvana with every slice of cheesecake, and now need a electric cart to carry them toward their next all-you-can-eat buffet. It just seems that the thin just want to get thinner, the fat just get fatter and the gap between them just gets wider.

So I guess my ultimate epiphany is that the two extreme ends of the spectrum can learn something from each other. You ultra-featherweights, who see food as saturated evil, need to get over your shallow and so very superficial fears of getting fat.

Sunflower seeds and air is not a meal. I don’t want to pretend like I know anything about eating disorders, but when the most flattering picture you have of yourself is an x-ray, its time to stop and use some common sense.

I have little pity for those people who say they’re “trapped” by an eating disorder, mainly because it’s so blatantly visible to the rest of the world of the negative effects it has on the body. So unless it’s also affecting your eyesight, I’m not accepting your excuses.

And you folks, who feel it’s acceptable to gorge yourself and not vomit afterward, don’t think you’re any better.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, is more pathetic than someone who has neglected oneself so much that they can no longer walk because of the acres of fat that have built up.

Is this what you wanted when you were little, to be an immobile lump of cholesterol and hardened arteries? Don’t give me any “glandular problem” excuse or “it’s hereditary” excuse because I’m guessing that your diet is beyond horrible and you exercise exactly zero hours during the week.

And when you finally do have a heart attack, and my taxes go toward paying your $90,000 hospital bill for your emergency quadruple bypass surgery, don’t expect a smile from me afterward.

I’m not saying that you need six-pack abs or be in the gym three hours every day. Those people have their own problems. And I’m not suggesting that you featherweights go out and gorge yourselves or you heavyweights resort to the all-water diet.

I’m just saying that you each have a little something that the other needs. So when you’re getting ready to chug that bottle of ranch dressing, ask yourself, “what would a 40-pound French model do?”

Well, she’d probably faint from just the thought. And when you’re chewing on a leather belt to get your daily sustenance, ask yourself, “Do I want fries with this?” And the answer should always be “yes.”

Josh Huggett can be reached at [email protected]