Some mornings I wake up and it's an instant struggle. I feel depressed, I'll, and grouchy, so by the time I'm finally out of bed and getting dressed you know of course I'm going to feel like none of my clothes fit. So I will change 30 times and finally decide on something. (at this point all I want to do is stay home and I'm usually on the verge of tears. My face is puffy from feeling sick and my makeup looks like a newbie tranie trying out for Americas next top model did it... And so I redo that 3-4 times which isn't helping the puffy face irritated skin thing. I put my hair up because I am now far beyond late. And I look in the mirror in utter disgust but I have to go. So I ask Daniel, like I often do when I need to have someone contradict my raging eating disordered thoughts, do I loom fat or do I look ok. I just never want to look like those women who wear clothes they just need to never wear. You know the kind. I'll spare you the visual. This morning was not the morning to ask that question... He responded with only Jesus Priscilla really?! Come on no for Christ sake get out of your head. I still feel fat. Whatfuckingever.
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