Truthiness

I throughly enjoyed this dialogue in Pulp Fiction:

Fabienne: I was looking at myself in the mirror.

Butch: Uh-huh?

Fabienne: I wish I had a pot.

Butch: You were lookin' in the mirror and you wish you had some pot?

Fabienne: A pot. A pot belly. Pot bellies are sexy.

Butch: Well you should be happy, 'cause you do.

Fabienne: Shut up, Fatso! I don't have a pot! I have a bit of a tummy, like Madonna when she did "Lucky Star," it's not the same thing.

Butch: I didn't realize there was a difference between a tummy and a pot belly.

Fabienne: The difference is huge.

Butch: You want me to have a pot?

Fabienne: No. Pot bellies make a man look either oafish, or like a gorilla. But on a woman, a pot belly is very sexy. The rest of you is normal. Normal face, normal legs, normal hips, normal ass, but with a big, perfectly round pot belly. If I had one, I'd wear a tee-shirt two sizes too small to accentuate it.

Butch: You think guys would find that attractive?

Fabienne: I don't give a damn what men find attractive. It's unfortunate what we find pleasing to the touch and pleasing to the eye is seldom the same.

It's so true.