I’m in a wallowing mood today, I’m tired, annoyed and disappointed in myself. I am a four year-old who has been denied lollies. Rather than stomp and scream, I sloth and fantasise about blood. In ten days I should have been celebrating my five year anniversary with M, instead I will spend the day helping my lovely C move house. I’m not over the break up yet, but I do feel better about it – not about life in general, but I don’t cry every time he pops into my mind now. I see it as a good sign that I have a crush on two other people, one of these can’t be acted on, but the other, maybe one day – not yet. I have 26 kilos to drop before I can consider myself good looking once more, I have achieved 5 so far, it’s easier to diet when you just refuse to let anything bad into the house (last night was an exception L). I actually think I’m quite good looking when I’m not fat, I don’t think many people can see that in themselves, but I used to be pleased by what looked back through the mirror (except the legs, they’re just gross). If I drop the 26kg I’ll be prettier than when I started seeing M, but I’ll be crazier, maybe someone will still want me. Mmm, I’m not in a writing mood, too busy wallowing – need some mud and wine.
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