My Face Hurts

I went shopping today hoping to buy something to wear tomorrow for Easter. Not because Easter is some special occasion I wanted to dress up for but mostly because I’ve outgrown everything and have nothing to wear that’s not a black muumuu. I was pretty for the larger numbers to look for, I’ve been preparing myself for the larger size. I look in the mirror at my larger body and try to accept what is reflected back at me. I thought I was ready.

I was wrong. The sizes were fine, it was my body that got to me. I went to 2 stores and visiting each of the dressing rooms. I had a moment in each one. Telling myself that it was okay and it is what it is and it is just a body. I told myself that my body was not me and that I am so much more. I didn’t buy the bullshit. Deep breaths weren’t making it go away. My eyes watered and throat constricted and I stifled the cry. I kept it together until I slammed my car door shut. And then I sobbed all the way home.

I sobbed like a child, lip quivering sobs. I still tried to tell myself everything is okay. But I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I don’t know how I can keep going in this body. I can’t handle it. It’s not okay. I can’t face anybody like this. I’m going to be sick tomorrow and flake yet again. I can’t bare to see my family. I can’t smile. I can’t lie and say I’m fine when I’m asked how I’m doing. I want to die. I hate this. At least when I was wrapped up in my bulimia I didn’t feel this. These REAL feelings. Sure I was numb but numb is manageable. Lying was second nature. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hold myself together.

Fuck recovery and it’s fucking fatness.


Puberty Round 2

Recovery is so hard. My BDD and ED thoughts are so ingrained. I decided this year to take the plunge. The plunge being MinnieMaude’s Guidelines for eating disorders. It’s taking me so long to get into this because it is so counterintuitive. The protocol seems gluttonous and lazy. You’d think this would be easy! Gluttony and laziness sounds awesome! Couch. Cookies. Stretchy Pants. YES! A thousand times YES!! But no.

I don’t have a problem eating mountains of buttery broccoli, brussel sprouts, nuts, full fat coconut milk, chicken, beef. Bring it. Zero guilt. I don’t care about the calories aside from hitting my daily minimum. But rice or quinoa? Anything more than ¾ cups every few days and I feel anxious. A cookie or piece of bread requires an inner monologue and most the time I end up deciding that I can just do without. Starchy foods like potatoes, rice, or quinoa are in the gray area, to be eaten sparingly. Cookies and bread are “bad” and to be avoided.

I hadn’t really considered this to be disordered. I just think, “I eat healthy. What’s the big deal? Isn’t this how I should be eating?” And, if I’m being honest (which is what this blog is all about) I still think this. I’m trying to change my thinking. I’m trying to eat with my will. I want to be able to have a cookie and enjoy it with no monologues and guilt. I don’t know how yet, and I’m realizing that avoiding these “bad” foods is not helping me to fully recover. I’m still holding onto this safety net of “good” and “bad” so that I’ll know my boundaries. I am relying on rules to eat, like I have been since I got myself into this mess of ED.

I suppose the “bad” foods are trigger foods. They are the foods that always led into a binge. The ones that make me feel out of control.  I don’t know how to see one cookie as one cookie. I think it will lead to an entire box and snowball into pizza and more cookies. Of course, I also associate these foods with being flabby. I think that if I eat healthy foods than I will be less big and less flabby than if I eat “unhealthy” or “bad” foods.

My waist it at its biggest right now and I’m afraid of expanding even more. When I think of what I’d like to have for lunch I am aware of my muffin top and go for the broccoli, rice or “gray area” foods are out of the question. When I think back on my week I feel like a slothy walrus because I haven’t been exercising. My default brain setting are set to, “Eat healthier and exercise.” Minniemaud says, no. And so I’m antsy and fidgeting. My mind races a million miles an hour bouncing back and forth between my default setting and these guidelines, and am I doing the Right Thing?

I do know that what I’ve been doing isn’t quite right and I’m desperate for recovery. I want so badly to be healthy so I’ll try anything even if it means getting bigger right now. I’m having the hardest time accepting my size. And a big part of me is still doing this to lose weight eventually. I want both. I want health and I want smooth curves (as opposes to lumps and rolls). I’m trying but it’s like puberty all over again. My body is changing and I’m confused and uncomfortable, and my clothes aren’t helping. 

I hate everything!

It’s been 9 months of recovery. It’s been difficult but I’ve managed. I’ve kept my eyes on the prize. Health. That’s all I wanted. When I saw health, my prize that I’m working so hard towards, I didn’t see a fat frowny faced girl but a lean and fit girl with glowing skin and a light in her eyes.  When I look in the mirror I see a fat frowny faced girl and lately I just want to cut myself off from the world so I can cry and exercise and restrict and count until the numbers are back into my comfort zone. Until my jeans fit and arms don’t do the doubley wave. When that happens everything will be okay.

My moms birthday was Wednesday. I stayed after and talked with her. That was a mistake. I told her about my eating disorder. It started at 20 and I will be 28 in just a few weeks. She was sad for me but at the end of the day she thinks that I am so smart and I have the will to get through anything. Thanks for the support. She doesn’t seem to think it’s real, like it’s just a phase.

I asked her about when she used to through up. She said she couldn’t even guess at how long she did it. She said that she stopped when she was in a good relationship. 18 years she’s been with him. “Was it hard? Were you always trying to stop? Did you promise yourself every time it was the last time?” Questions out of curiosity and frustration. How can she just not remember? How can she act like it was some arbitrary thing she did and doesn’t do anymore. She finally said that she knows were I’m going through. She’s full of shit.

My cousins wedding last month threw a chink in my recovery armor and now my brain is melting and my eyes are leaking. I broke down and bought a scale today. I had to know. And now I know. 168 pounds. I’ve gained over 30 pounds. How am I going to lose all this?! This is why I never gave “recovery” any real effort! My worst fears have come true.

All I can think about is how I’m gonna lose this. It’s been on my mind since the wedding in July. I bought a scale because I have to do something about this. I have to know where my body is at. I’ve been racking my brain but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to lose weight for my body anymore. I think I’ve been eating somewhere between 1500-1800 calories, so eating less only means starvation. So…eat more? This is weird.

I’m so confused. I don’t want to be fat. I don’t want to have an active eating disorder. I need to do something but I don’t know what. If I keep on going the way I have…how much bigger will I get? I’m scared.  I can’t get any bigger. Any bigger and I will be shopping in the plus sized section. I want to hide from the world and exercise and restrict until I’m not fat anymore.

ED was a different kind of misery and I refuse to go back, especially after 9 months and 40 pounds of effort I put into this. I don’t know how exactly I’m going to do it, but damnit I will lose this weight and I will be healthy.


I’m depressed. This post is depressing. You’ve been warned.

I’m depressed. I feel sad day and night. I feel separate from the world, and even from myself sometimes. The most frustrating part of it is that I’m trying. I’m fucking trying and the universe is still bullying me. I don’t even know what to do about this. I just keep going. It’s confusing because I was fine; and now I’m not. 

Of course the feeling makes me want to give up on everything. It feels a little defeating, but then there is a part of me that feels like there is hope. I’m really trying to hang on to that hope and try to believe that this will pass and I’ll learn something from it. But at what expense? How low will I go before I bounce back to normal? And why the fuck can’t I learn lessons without a bunch of bullshit?!

My boyfriend has been “feeling down” lately. I think he just doesn’t want to use the word depressed. But it makes ME feel depressed too! That shit is contagious. My self-esteem can’t handle it. I feel like if I were better, prettier, thinner, more congenial than maybe he wouldn’t be “feeling down.” Ridiculous? Yes. These are just my insecurities I’m trying to fit into his puzzle.

My insecurities seem to be never ending. I feel disliked by everybody-family, friends and even the boyfriend. I wonder why my friends are my friends. I feel like I’m tolerated or pitied. At work I feel inadequate and useless. I feel out of place at yoga, the fat girl. I’m pretty sure one of the instructors who is awesome doesn’t care for me. My yoga friend thinks I’m “so ghetto sometimes,” which hurt my feelings (even if it’s a little true). I feel like my boyfriend just settled for me. My apartment not decorated well. I have a fat pudgy face. I’m big and chubby. I don’t dress well for my fat body (or at all). My personality sucks…I could go on, but I’ll stop there.

All these things and more are flying through my head all the time lately. I think it started with my cousins wedding. I was bitchy and then I got wasted. The dress I wore was boring as fuck and unflattering. I felt like everybody was giving me the cold shoulder and I don’t know why. Which seems to be the story of my life.

I never know where I stand with people. I catch little drops of honesty here and there and it crushes me. Apparently, I want to be all the things that I am not. I don’t even know what I am except that it’s not what I want. Ever since I was young when I foresee one of these little drops of honesty coming my way my ears go deaf and my eyes blank. My mind bleeps it out like cuss words on primetime. I read somewhere that this is dissociative disorder. 

I thought I was getting better. It’s been 9 months I’ve been recovering and I was so proud that it felt so good. Of course, I thought things would just keep getting better. I’m really trying. I eat as healthy as I know how. I do yoga 3-4 times a week. I thought this was suppose to keep my head right. Diet and exercise and relationships, but I feel awful lately. I feel like my brain is swimming in tears just waiting for the damn to break. 

I don’t know what to do. I need to fix this.

Why can’t IMpatience be a virtue?

The highlight of my weekend was with my family. After my nieces toddler soccer game, which I saw a whopping 5 minutes of, we all went back to my Moms and watched the kids swim and chatted. They laid out trying to soak up the sun while I hid in the shade. I don’t bring my bathing suit for 2 reasons, (1) being in the sun takes a toll on my health (in the form of fatigue, rashes and general weakened immune system leaving me vulnerable for the week) and (2) I’m fucking fat.

My mom (as mentioned on previous posts) is doing the HCG diet. She is in her “Maintenance Phase,” so she is feeling great about herself and really amped on this diet. Her friend likes to do 5k races, neither are svelte and super lean but they are better bodies than mine in all the areas the mind fuck me because their body compositions are inherently different than my own. I’m bottom heavy, whereas they carry their weight up top. Grass is always greener and shit. So I’m all jealous and sadpants about it. These women are in their 50’s and I feel like I’m the fat guy. I thought you were suppose to stop caring when you get older!

I know I’m being unreasonable. We all want to be svelte, fit and healthy, regardless of age. And nowadays the standards of the age groups are getting closer and closer. I blame Madonna. I still have that feeling that I should look better than them in a bikini! And I get so upset that I can’t do all those things to slim me down quickly! …Mostly because I have done all those things to such an extreme that now I have a secret blog because My Life When Nobody Is Looking has become a catastrophe and it takes All Of Me to try and clean up.

BUT STILL! I want that smaller and thin body! When I’m around my mom I find myself thinking that I should do it too. It’s ONLY 30 days MAX of eating 500 calories a day…and there’s that shot thing to make you not feel all shitty and crazy. And then I can go right back to being healthy and just maintain the slimmer body. I fight with myself. I think how unhealthy that sounds and how The Internet said it was a placebo and 500 calories is unhealthy. And is it even a long term solution? I’ve gotten slim before…and then I went crazy and became bulimic. But that was because it was for more than 30 days, right? If I stop at the 30 than I can be okay!

I’m always so conscious of the mass of my body. I take yoga twice a week and can’t do balancing poses because I can’t stay focused, sometimes I’m just being jealous of all the people whose bodies are smaller than mine. Obviously, it’s not the entire class time but there is at least a moment during the hour and a half that I’m there that the feeling happens. I don’t take yoga to lose weight. I don’t associate it with weight loss. I do it because I feel great when I leave, my body feels good inside; on the outside, though, I’m still aware and unhappy with it’s size.

I am constantly telling myself that this standard is in my head. In my mind I’m holding myself to Skinny Fit Girl standards and falling short. It’s unfair to myself. I haven’t let go of it, I just give myself a Pass. It’s okay for now, I tell myself, I’m still in recovery. It’s okay for now, I’m on my way to meet this high bar of expectations I hold for myself.

If I don’t let go of these high standards what’s going to happen in 2 and half years when I’m suppose to be recovered? If I’m not there in that time or soon after am I going to fall back into dieting where there is that great potential to fall deeper and spiral down into the Horrors of EDdom? That’s what it’s looking like, I’m already fighting myself about my moms diet. What happens when the Passes run out?

Not know what’s going to happen to my body in the next couple of years is scary. “They” say that it takes the body about 3 years to get back to “normal” and recover from an eating disorder. So, naturally, I anticipate being a comfortable size at around that time. I do yoga 2 or more times a week and I eat healthy, I don’t really overeat very much (nuts and chocolate are my nemesis!). I feel like my weight does not match my lifestyle. I wonder if it’s because I actually am consuming to much or if it’s because my body is broken. I’m so confused! I just keep going with how I’ve been doing life (mostly out of habit) but I can’t help but wonder where I can improve. I just keep telling myself to be patient and keep doing what I’m doing and that I will get there…but wtf! AM I CLOSE?! HOW FAR AM I?! CAN I GET THERE FASTER?! LIKE FRIDAY!

This Friday I am going to a wedding with Burbank. All kinds of stressiness was happening. I have to find something to wear, which means I have to face my body and what suits it. And then there is the the social aspect. I’m socially awkward you guys, which puts more pressure on feeling good which means I need to feel like I look good to be at my best socially. When I’m uncomfortable and self conscious I get all in my head. I have no idea what to expect at this wedding and so all the more stress I put on what I can control, how I look and conduct myself. I’m a control freak and I’m freaking out. 

Ugh. I’m too fat for life! If I were skinny everything would be perfect!


(that last line is soaked in sarcasm)

I need a hug.

Earlier today I thought, “Wow, I’m doing really well. I feel good.” For the past two weeks I haven’t been counting calories, just eating as I usually do and snacking when I’m hungry. I’ve also been doing yoga twice a week in a class that challenges me just the right amount. I’ve even been sore, which I love.  Cut to after my midday shower (it’s the weekend-don’t judge!) where I got proverbially bitch-slapped by my clothes. Have I gotten bigger? WTF?

My body is so confusing now that I’ve tampered with it throughout my ED driven years. It’s just not a matter of simple math anymore now, is it? It’s not like I can just eat healthy and exercise moderately and my body will shed those unwanted pounds.

I’m so impatient. I’m like violet from Willy Wonka, “I WANT IT NOW!” I feel like I’ve put in the time and now I should be seeing the benefits. Except, I haven’t really put in the time. The last binge/purge happened 6ish months ago but my intake was and sometimes may still be where a dieters is. There have been nights where I’ve drank too much, how much damage has that done? And am I see the benefits? Yes, I am. I’m not the same as I was 6 months ago. My mood is generally better. I have more energy to do things, and am less and less anxious about it. I doubt anybody can see a change in my body size-larger or smaller.

There is a general improvement since really putting effort into recovery but all that shit is out the window when I wiggle into some pants and my chub is spilling over the waist. I want to restrict to 1200 calories a day. “That’s healthy, right?” I think to myself, “I’ve been overeating, really. I mean I’m short, I don’t really need 1700-1900 calories. No wonder my pants are tight!”

Lucky for me I have a lifeline. The wifey texts me through all the shit. Sometimes just texting it out, I can already count the ways she is going to tell me I’m being absurd.

When my clothes don’t fit I need to find something that does and move on. My body size isn’t important, my health is. That’s ED talking. I’m working towards being healthy. I have to tell myself these types of things constantly because it’s not where my mind goes off the bat. It’s only been 6 months, it is good but it takes longer to heal me (3 years they say). I can’t wait for the day when my mind goes to healthy right away and I don’t have to talk myself off the ED/self-hating ledge.

I can’t wait for the day where my mind doesn’t even bother because my body is already there. 

Eyes on the Prize

I’m getting better at eating. My fears of bingeing and overeating are waning. This week I did not count calories and I am not worried that I had too much or too little. I did not eat perfectly and I’m okay with it because chocolate is delicious. Slowly but surely I am coming to terms with my body, it’s helped that I’m buying better fitting clothes.
I started yoga twice a week. I feel stronger, my stand straighter and I move better when I practice yoga. I’ve only had four classes so far but I already feel differently; yoga agrees with me. I’ve decided to take this month off if zwow. I like it but I’m wondering if the workouts are putting too much stress on my body.
I really want to recover from my ED. I want to be closer to normal than ED. I strive to be healthy and energetic. I also want to lose weight and look good, which was my tipping point into the land of ED. I know that all the damage that I’ve done to my body through ED behaviors are keeping weight on me and that is what motivates me to keep going. Is that wrong?
I think it’s different now. I don’t want to be stick thin anymore. I find myself thinking girls are too skinny more and more. They either look sickly or really young. I won’t want to look like a teenager, I’m 27 and I want to look like a healthy 20 something (of course, I will be happy to look a few years younger). But I do still want to lose weight, I can’t tell if that’s normal or ED. I tell myself that its okay as long as I don’t let it rule my thoughts and actions like it did (does?) than it’ll be okay. As long as I can still have a life. Spending an entire evening in the company of others too preoccupied with the calories (I’m gonna gain weight! I need to restrict and exercise hardcore all week!) and how fat I look (too fat to socialize) is no way to live. I just want to be comfortable in my body but I still associate that comfort with a lesser weight than what I am now.
As much as I feel I’m progressing I’m constantly second guessing and having to check myself. Recently, it is my mom. Her latest diet has my emotions all emotional.
My mom is doing the HCG diet which is basically eating 500 calories a day of low fat/carbs, high protein. The fact that she would even consider doing a diet so extreme speaks volumes of her desperation to lose and hurts my feelings. (No joke, I tear up every time I think of it.) She was embarrassed to say anything in fear of failing it. When she told me she was gonna do it I couldn’t hold back my opinions. How unhealthy! It’s starving your body and brain! It’s a fad diet! The weight will be gained back! It’ll slow the metabolism! I don’t know exactly how true these accusations are but I don’t believe I’m very far off the mark. They didn’t go over well with her, she just became tight lipped about it.
She came over last week and we went out to dinner. It’s like I could hear the echoes of myself from the past. She ordered a chicken breast and sliced tomatoes wiping off the chicken because it was too greasy and only eating half. She told me how she wanted to limit time with her boyfriend because it would be too hard to be around him for long on this diet. She’s even putting off vacation until she is in the maintenance phase. This diet effects everything. Sounds familiar. It reminds me of my descent into ED hell. I’m afraid for her. Dinner was difficult to get through. I lost my appetite and started remembering the time when the words she was saying were coming from me and how small I was and you could see my ribs and my thighs didn’t touch… I had to keep reminding myself of how obsessed and depressed I was. I had to remind myself that that body didn’t compensate for the life (or lack thereof) around it.
As much as I still want it, I want health and life much more.

Java Junkie > Choco Monster

I gave up coffee for Lent and the main difference that I’m noticing is my appetite increase. Basically, it means that the bowl full of chocolates at work that I had previously ignored I now hear calling out to me. And I have been answering.

When I had initially decided to quit coffee it was mostly because I thought that quitting coffee would prompt me to drink more tea. I saw coffee as my one big vice. Okay, alcohol trumps coffee but we’re going by frequency here. I had coffee 2-3 cups every day. I thought that I could swap my coffee habit for a much healthier tea habit!

Not so. Turns out quitting coffee awakened the chocolate and nut eating beast living inside of me. Bad News Bears. I thought quitting coffee would inspire healthier habits. Evidently, coffee (w/creamer) has been suppressing my appetite and satisfying my sweet tooth. And so, I want it back. Unfortunately, everybody knows that I gave the shit up and my pride is like, “fuck that! You’re doing this! You can’t let people think you are some weak willed fatty!” Because in my ED addled mind “weak will” and “fat fuck” are positively correlated. I feel like a failure if I quit. Except another part of me is thinking more along the lines of, “well that experiment backfired.”

I’m still debating what to do. I’m not even religious so whatever on that front. It’s more about this idea that I want to eat “perfectly,” or as close to it as possible. After a solid month of living like a Chocolate Monster I don’t think any magic is going to happen in these last 2 weeks. I’m really leaning towards “fuck this failed experiment.”

Somebody prescribe me some Xanax

There is something you guys don’t know about me. I’m a thug. At least that is what it looked like last month when I got pulled over for speeding, expired registration and tinted windows. Truth be told, I was speeding but so where all of the 10 cars around me! I was just going with the flow of traffic. And my tags are up to date. I had to get a smog check this year and with the sickness and all the OT I ended up getting it done on the last day possible and so my tags were in the mail. And I was hung over. It was a shitty morning.

Another 10 foot wave happened in the work flow and I put in 29 hours of OT. Exhaustion. I looked at my ticket after the wave. I hadn’t gotten anything in the mail and it had been 3 weeks. Three days had gone by since the court date, I read the back of the ticket and freaked. the. fuck. out. Did missing the court date mean that there was now a warrant out for my arrest? I was a delinquent? ME? I really am a thug.

It was like the floor fell away beneath me. So I did what any thug would do, I called my mom. I wanted her to tell me to calm down. The court date is no big deal, I just missed my opportunity to fight against the ticket, and that I will get something in the mail that would advise me on how to handle the ticket. She didn’t. I believe her words were, “Oh. Shit.” So I stepped up the freak out a couple notches and tried to convince myself that it will be okay. That I can take care of this and everything will be fine. Except for my bank out. My bank account was sure to be in a state of sad, sad sadness.

My heart was beating out of my chest and I started crying (like a thug). I felt out of control and lost. I made a pitstop for a pack of cigarettes and chain smoked two while I feverishly read all I could on my current situation. I read up and came to the consensus that I’ll probably be okay. That date is not mandatory for people in my situation. The cigarettes helped me to numb my feelings and be somewhat rational. I was texting the wifey and she told me what I had wanted my mom to tell me.

I still felt numb. I poured a glass of wine and ate dinner. The glass of wine took me over an hour to drink because I started painting after I ate. Do you know what is missing? A binge and purge. The initial ticket didn’t send me into a tailspin but surely this episode was. It’s happened in the past. Last time, I got shit faced in Vegas and lost my iPhone. Tailspin. 

I call this progress. The last time I was doing well in terms of bulimia, but I was severely restricting. Not this time. Thanks to eating quality foods my brain chemistry is much more stable. Bingeing and purging was only a passing thought that was quickly dismissed. I didn’t want to eat or throw up. With the thought came the feeling of the NomVom aftermath the spiral of misery what would suck me in and none of it seemed the least bit desirable. Dismissed. 

I had planned on going out to Burbank for the weekend and see my friend while I was near. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think of how it would affect me for the weekend. I thought of how I didn’t want my friend to see my face all puffed up. I thought of how I didn’t want Burbank to see my body so bloated. My vanity worked in my best interest in this case.

I’m better-improved-but there is still so much that needs improvement. I’m still having a hard time with keeping my calories high. Well, to me they are high. I eat between 1400 and 1800. Apparently, this is in the dieting zone, not the normal one. I thought I was in the normal zone! I’m 5’3″ and I sit at a desk all day! I’m lazy! Sure, I do zwow about 3 times a week, that is what? 45 minutes of exercise a week? Pathetic.  I’m terrified of eating more than I am. I already feel big and fat. I’m afraid that eating 1800 to 2000 calories everyday will make me a Goodyear blimp. 

I gave up coffee for Lent. For what? I’m not religious. I do it to prove to myself that I can. I gobbled up all the chocolate in the office for the first two weeks. The next two I took up to putting creamer in my Chai Tea and snacking on peanuts. I feel like I’m missing something. I want my coffee back.

I’m going to raise my calorie intake. And I’m not happy about it.

The storm has passed.

This past week…I feel like I just survived a storm. We got this rush project that was very large and it landed on my desk. I put in 11 and a half hours of OT! YAY! That’s a lot of extra dollars you guys! I’m generally happy about OT because I’m a money grubber. This week I was unhappily happy. Money kept me going. I have a lot of determination. 

Grumblecake reason #1: My cousin asked me to do a collage for her engagement party and I said yes. She asked two weeks prior but that doesn’t matter because Procrastinating is my shit! I procrastinated the fuck out of that collage! I mentally set aside the 2 days before the party to get that collage handled. And then work ambushed on those two days with Extra Dollars Potential. What to do? What to do!? 

Make money. Make money money money. Kinda.

Grumblecake reason #2: I was sick. Remember last entry I was all McWhinerton? Yup. I would have stayed home if it weren’t for that project. And then there is the stress of being under the gun times two. It was heavy y’all. I meant to work in the morning and party-engagement style-at night but I woke up with that “I HATE EVERYTHING” feeling but lower cased and whiney because I just burrowed further into my bed. I managed to get up and get dressed for the party. I would have rather stayed home wearing sweatpants and a pouty face with a thermometer hanging out of my mouth like buckwheat for effect.

I managed to get the collage done and the project for work in the nick of time. (“Nick of time?” Where does that come from?! What does that even mean!?) After that stupid project was turned in I went home and slept for 14 hours straight. And then I woke up this morning and it was the last day to get my car smogged. Stupid DMV. My car passed. All is well.

I finally feel like I can breathe again. Bacteria pills seem to be helping the shituation. I think I’m over the sickness. The project and collage are done. My car is smogged. I can breathe.

But there is still one problem. I’m fat. I am pretty sure I gained weight when upping the intake. I want to cut it back down again where I was comfortable but I’ll keep on. It would make this so much easier if I wasn’t seeing Burbank this weekend. All “Hey, I’m a fat fuck. You like?” and he’s gonna be all *poochie face* “Eh,” but on the inside because he’s too nice to call me a Fat Fuck to my fat face.  But there is nothing that I can do about this. Even if I exercised and starved I’m still not gonna lose 15 pounds in 2 days. So…it is what it is. I’m trying to remind myself of the big picture but I keep looking at the mirror and thinking “damn I’m big.”

In the past 2 weeks my apartment has gotten messy and I have to go clean it. And I need to exercise so I’m not as weeblesque.

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