Caidil gu la laddie, la, laddie, sleep the stars away
I guess I assumed, that you would be different. I assumed that you would find me as attractive as I could possibly be without losing weight, straightening my hair, my teeth, without wearing make up. I assume too much? I hoped that you would answer, "I already find you attractive," or even, "I don't know, I like you the way you are." But, even though that was my hope, I wanted honesty, and I don't hold that against you. But I thought I had found someone that would just ... I don't know the words for how I feel. Unlike the others, you make no demands on me, not really. You won't call me fat, chubby (borderline or otherwise) and ... GAH.
It's hard to write this when I know you'll probably read it. Because I know I will say it to you eventually. I want to say it on my own damn terms, but I also just want it said.
But you are right. There was a fair bit of pressure to come up with an answer to a question that if I couldn't handle it (which I knew I might not be able to at the time of asking) shouldn't have been asked. So I let it go, sort of. It went to the back of my mind. I wondered occasionally if you were judging me when we touched, when we were close... but I never thought you were doing it unfairly.
Until you told me, once again, what I am doing wrong. Do you have ANY idea how hard, after six years of bullshit eating habits, it is to suddenly just eat normally? Not even well, not even watching what goes into my body, but regularly enough to not crash and have my sugar get fucked up? And I am doing it for me too. That's why it's working. Because I want to look like Kida, and be strong. I have days where I feel like breaking shit because I am so mad at myself for putting food into my mouth, but I keep telling myself it's good.
Oh poor me. Fuck. There is no way around sounding so weak, and whining and pitiful. I am trying to do this because I know it will help me. I am fighting every single thought that I look terrible, look fat, and how it would be so simple to just skip meals, or days of food to lose weight like I did at the beginning of the summer, and have VISIBLE results.
But no, instead I am going forward, utilizing my journal like mad.
te
And then you tell me that I am not exercising, that I know I am not. And then I feel guilty. Guilty for everything.
And I have to wonder if maybe that's why you think I would be more attractive if I was skinnier. Maybe you think I am weak, or too soft. I DO walk my dog daily when you aren't here. I do get myself lost in my streets every once in a while...
No, I am not pushing myself. But I am eating normally, which is pushing me. So fuck you. Fuck you for once again implying that I am defeating myself by not trying.
I am so mad, I am so disappointed in myself. I felt like you were on my side and now I don't know anymore.
I felt good enough for you, and now I don't know anymore.
I am hurt.
It's hard to write this when I know you'll probably read it. Because I know I will say it to you eventually. I want to say it on my own damn terms, but I also just want it said.
But you are right. There was a fair bit of pressure to come up with an answer to a question that if I couldn't handle it (which I knew I might not be able to at the time of asking) shouldn't have been asked. So I let it go, sort of. It went to the back of my mind. I wondered occasionally if you were judging me when we touched, when we were close... but I never thought you were doing it unfairly.
Until you told me, once again, what I am doing wrong. Do you have ANY idea how hard, after six years of bullshit eating habits, it is to suddenly just eat normally? Not even well, not even watching what goes into my body, but regularly enough to not crash and have my sugar get fucked up? And I am doing it for me too. That's why it's working. Because I want to look like Kida, and be strong. I have days where I feel like breaking shit because I am so mad at myself for putting food into my mouth, but I keep telling myself it's good.
Oh poor me. Fuck. There is no way around sounding so weak, and whining and pitiful. I am trying to do this because I know it will help me. I am fighting every single thought that I look terrible, look fat, and how it would be so simple to just skip meals, or days of food to lose weight like I did at the beginning of the summer, and have VISIBLE results.
But no, instead I am going forward, utilizing my journal like mad.
te
And then you tell me that I am not exercising, that I know I am not. And then I feel guilty. Guilty for everything.
And I have to wonder if maybe that's why you think I would be more attractive if I was skinnier. Maybe you think I am weak, or too soft. I DO walk my dog daily when you aren't here. I do get myself lost in my streets every once in a while...
No, I am not pushing myself. But I am eating normally, which is pushing me. So fuck you. Fuck you for once again implying that I am defeating myself by not trying.
I am so mad, I am so disappointed in myself. I felt like you were on my side and now I don't know anymore.
I felt good enough for you, and now I don't know anymore.
I am hurt.