Guten abend, Guten nacht.

ima's choice.

-early winter, 1922-

The night was young, and in the crisp evening breeze imas long wool coat fluttered behind her. The sky was only newly dark, but clear, dotted with its own bright freckles.
     Her hair has a silk scarf tied hastily over it to protect it from the winds, but strands of it that were free danced in the air to their own rhythm. She was a beautiful woman, though. She seemed worn down, and stressed. She was about 5'8, with breasts on the smaller side, but an hourglass waist.
      Her hips then jutted out after her waist's indent, and always had even before childbirth. Her wide hips were paired with a rather full lower half, but still she herself remained thin.
      Admittedly, she would look even better if she ate more, but she was already self conscious about her wide Lower half, so she tried to make up for it in being a bit thinner elsewhere. Her family scolded her for this mindset, cursing under their breath as they blamed the French.
        Ima had studied abroad in Paris for some years in her very early twenties, and her parents blamed the French for her desire for being thinner. Ima remained that this was not true, though, she had to admit that she did feel some envy.
      Envy for the short, thin women she saw. Their silken fabrics draping over their boyish figures, showing their long, Shapley legs. Not to mention their bobbed dark hair and fair skin. The way they posed so elegantly, like little ballerinas on music boxes.
       They made it seem as if there was something so beautifully feminine about being fragile. Like porcelain dolls are pretty, they made it seem like being just as breakable was a desirable feat. The tone in which the French and American women talked about skipping meals seemed prideful.
        She would look at her plate of cold fish, and her side of greens and feel sick to her stomach. She would find herself missing her old food. Warm soups, breads, and items swimming in broths or thin sauces. Meat and potatoes, bread and cheese. But in this new culture, those were a mans food. Subconsciously, maybe she did begin to have these feelings after her time in Paris.
        Even so, she felt as though it was bound to happen in many cultures. But she knew the French and the Americans influenced each other heavily, with such close ties. And even she had seen the lengths women in America has been willing to go to lose weight.
         She had seen some of these trends reflected in northern Germany, but they were still very different. Or at least she felt that they were. Ima had made her way into the main city streets of tübingen, as they were now emptying since the sun had set and the day was done.   
       She figeted with the heavy metal heart locket on her neck, and looked around to see if anyone was there. She sighed softly as she looked around at the empty streets.
     In that moment she felt as if love wasn't something she could find at a moments notice, so, was she willing to give up love just to give her daughter a father.
     She was willing to give up anything for her daughter, including true love.