'Come, there's no use in crying like that!' said Alice to herself, rather sharply; 'I advise you to leave off this minute!' She generally gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. 'But it's no use now,' thought poor Alice, 'to pretend to be two people! Why, there's hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!'
I address myself, just as Alice does, still in the habit of thinking there are two of me. But I keep on taking bites from the Eat Me cake, making myself bigger and bigger, more solid and visible.
And vaguely respectable. Sort of.
But it's hard to be respectable, and not to fly away in a clumsy whirlwind, and have a good grasp of proprioception (this, put simply, is the brain’s knowledge of the relative positions of the body’s parts - the seventh sense), when body parts grow, retract, lengthen and shorten according to how much mushroom is nibbled.
Yet I think I would remember where I keep my body parts, irrespective of reliable proprioception. I trust them not to wander. But maybe this is my mistake...
They crash into things whether I know their whereabouts or not. Maybe they should rearrange themselves into something infinitely more elegant and graceful. Quicksmart. This is the only way to make me even half a respectable person. Though I would have to sacrifice some beautiful bruises.