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December 2009

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Blah.

Yeah, so... I'm sitting here in this over-sized chair feeling like the fattest thing that ever existed. It pissed me off to no end to how much I've eaten today. Gross! Especially since I'm nowhere near where I want to be.

I remember that, when I was thin, I had a shred of peace with myself. I felt at least proud of one thing in my life. Too bad it was being skinny, but I'm not going to complain about having something that I liked about myself.

I felt glamorous, regal even. Now I feel like a fucking stuffed sausage, with the same amount of dignity of one. I'm not too worried, though. I know I'll lose the weight and that I won't ever be fat again. I was fat because I gave up when I was in my last relationship. I did everything to fix him, everything one human can do for another, but I was hurt in the end. So, I just stuffed my fucking face and drank a 6-pack of beer every night just to be around that piece of shit.

Now, I'm in a new relationship. I'm really anxious about it. When I was in New York with him, I had a panic attack because I just didn't know if I could love anyone. I didn't know if I could get over my numbness, my apathy. Honestly, I still don't and I'm not sure if I even want to. Not caring is so lovely, after all. I have to make barely any effort to live.

But I met his family. I love them! I talked more to them than I have with my family in the passed fucking year. I never stopped being my weird-ass self, and they accepted me and my strange ways (lulz). Justin surely accepts them and we're great together.

We were great when we were friends, great whenever he was helping me through the morbid relationship with the aforementioned sack of shit man (no, boy) I was with. He told me things would never work, but I didn't listen. Justin was right, all along, and here... almost three years later, we're together as we should have been in the beginning when he showed me such great kindness, friendship and love.

I just have a lot of trouble accepting those things.

Anyway, back to one of my main points... I need to fucking lose weight. Why? Why can't I just accept myself the way I am? BECAUSE it fucking makes me feel GREAT. So, why wouldn't I lose weight and feel beautiful and fabulous and thin again? Why wouldn't I do something that makes me happy. Stuffing my face and being bloated does not make me happy like actually feeling my ribs through my skin, sharp and pristine.

So, I'm going to do it. I think I'll stop around 112 lbs. Anymore weight loss makes me look like a bobble-head doll.

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