I'm Just A Little Bit Caught In The Middle...

Okay so I am sure my fatitude is no longer that interesting but I thought of another thing. I don't know what I'll do if I get skinnier because I always feel awkward. Okay, take yesterday. I am talking to my boyfriend's aunts and they are in their 40s and 50s and they are portly and gray-haired and they like me. But I feel awkward because I think they are staring at my stomach and thinking that, sure they look fat now, but atleast they were skinny when it counted (i.e. their youth). Me, I'm fat now, so I'll only get fatter. What a tragedy. This paranoid thinking isn't totally unfounded. I mean, it is with his aunts, but I have been told this before. By my mother.
You see my mother has alway been six feet tall. But she used to be quite skinny with huge boobs and six feet tall. For as long as I have known her, she has been very overweight, so her comments about my eating and stuff were mostly taking in stride, as she is a total hypocritical fat bitch. But last spring, whilst I was away innocently at school, my mo began this doctor-monitored diet. Now, almost a full year later, she has lost like 55 pounds and we were the same pants size. This is bad. Very bad. Not only does she talk about food (in varying ways) all the mother-effing time but you know she is looking at me as competition. Her youngest daughter, not even 21, and she can totally wear things smaller than her! Though I must say I don't quite fulfill the wearing-you-daughters-clothes fantasy as I am so fat myself. But I am 5'9". She is 6'. And she does weigh almost 15 pounds less than me. Of course, I knew this was coming, so what did I do? I threw in the towel and ate like a crazy person.
Every day that I have been home I have been hoping that today will be a good day, today will be a day I eat well. Today is never that day.
Maybe tomorrow?

Look at this skinny bitch shall we? This woman gained 80 pounds during her pregnancy and had to diet mid-pregnancy because she was only like 7 months pregnant. And now she is back to her skinny self. How does she do that? Obviously, she loves herself some food. (80 pounds in 7 months!) Does she just never allow herself to eat so she went wacko with the pregnancy eat pass? Or is she just physically unable to stay fat unless harboring a bebe? And this picture was taken in September. So 10 months later. Seriously!?

All Apologies.

I haven't posted in ages and truthfully it is because I forgot I had this thing. I have done this before too. I think I have commitiment-phobia for diaries. When I was young, I received many a diary, being young and female and very quiet, but I would only write for a little while and then stop. My bookcase used to be filled with these little skeleton books: how I treasured reading into the innermost workings of one week in 4th grade. But I never got more than that. I remember the longest lived one had three golden retrievers on the front and a sticker of Josh Hartnett's face on the back. I think I got the sticker from a Cosmo!Girl booklet. I used to find is uncharted eyebrows very dreamy. But that was only when I was finding boys dreamy in general. Most of the time, boys passed men passed me by like leaves on the wind. Right up past my seventh grade of school. I began school when I was five and my best friend was a boy. Daniel. But in first grade, the fucker left me for Jake. After that, boys held neither my interest nor my fancy.
Funnily enough, in eight grade a rumor circulated about e mostly out of malice and less from evidence that I was a lesbian and I really had nothing to say about it. I was pretty sure I did not like women, but I did not really like men either. When I found out about asexuality (I think during computer class in one of those portable classrooms that always smelled of manufactured air and never seems to go away, no matter how old the portables got) I was pretty sure that was me. I did definitely begin to care about how I looked in middle school though. In eighth grade, I started Weight Watchers with my sister. I was 185 pounds at 5'9". My sister had just finished her high school life of volleyball and my mom didn't want her to get too fat for her graduation dress. Atleast that was what I was told. Mostly I think my mom wanted me to be skinny for high school. It worked too. I went down to 152 by the fall of my freshman year. I have never been that skinny again. Now here I am, older and fatter. Still 5'9" but now almost 210 pounds. I hate it all. The stretch marks, the flab, the lack of feeling in my stomach fat (odd how there just aren't enough nerves for all that fat) the looks from my family.
At school, my roommates tell me I look not overweight, that I shouldn't diet, that I am fine. I say, thanks mom but that is wher the real gas is. My mom would never say that stuff. If she did, I might start liking myself and then, god forbid, I'd get even FATTER! All that I-love-myself eating. If I stopped hating myself though, I'd probably be a lot healthier. It wouldn't be so fun and sneaky then. But it worries me to ever become healthy. Then what would I hate? What would I fight? What if I hated my face skinny? What if I really am ugly under all the fat!? Right now, I just think "yeah, I'm okay but my neck! There is nothing to be done about it! I will not be right with this double chin." No chin-no problem? It terrifies me.
You know what's funny. I am "the pretty one" of my family. What a joke! Honestly, as unbiased as I can get, my middle sister is the prettiest. Pretty and pale. Big lips. But somehow I have been given this title. I think its a sympathy prize, since I am most definitely the fattest. Its like "She's the prettiest...if only she'd get that body to match".
To further torture myself my love in life is clothes. I drool all day over fashion blogs (now that the magazines have flown right out of my price range) looking at beautiful art pieces made of silk and pearl and buttons and sticthes and beautiful lies. Can you make that in a size 15? Size 38E? kthxby.

I have a headache

Two days ago my boyfriend was having a lousy day. But I was all pissed off at him and had been dreadfully mean to him. I had stormed out of his house and gone back to my own but then he called me and I could tell he was a bit teary because he started school (teaching, not learning) the next day and was nervous as all hell. So, like any good girlfriend would do I went back to his house (he lives less than a mile away, but over some wicked large roads) and gave him a lovely massage. Of his penis. With my mouth. Which I can tell you I have not done in AGES because I am so picky. My mouth has to be feeling good, I have to want it, and I can not do it if I'm hot. Not hot as in turned on but hot as in his room is a furnace sometimes. I feel so gross when I blow him whilst sweaty. Anyways, then we had a lovely fuck and he was all sleepy and much more calm (hee) and I went home. So there. My first ever legitimate-but-not-quite booty call.

Today I am at work, and I get off in 40 minutes. Then I RUN to my train, sit for a half an hour, get picked up by my best friend (who has been a right bitch as of late, to both me and my terribly intimidating mother) and drive to my next job; working a catering job for my mother's catering business. That'll get out around 11, then I have to go home and pack so I can get up at 5, shower and run to the bank (because I have 5 count them 5 DOLLARS IN MY ACCOUNT) to deposit the money I am about to make, all before getting in the car again with my right bitch a friend, only to sit for 5 hours as we drive to the middle of nowhere for the long weekend to visit her father. I'm looking forward to the trip actually, if I could just skip to noon of tomorrow. Screw being broke, screw the catering job, screw not sleeping, screw my crazy friend and her mission to talk down to me all the time. The only one who doesn't talk to me like I am an idiot one mess-up from a justified beating is my boyfriend. And that's why he gets the blow jobs, I guess.

I <3 Diets. Just Not My Own.

Today I am divulging in my worst vice: pro ana surfing. Currently, while at work mind you, I am surfing this darling girl's pro ana blog and watching MTV's "Real Life: I am on a diet." I love listening to people talk about their food diets. Oh, also, I have already gleefully filled in my calories. Having gone to a divey diner in search of scrambled eggs, I have already consumed way to much butter for the day and am rethinking lunch. Not that I am going to skip lunch (my low blood sugar won't permit that) but I don't really want a sandwich right now. I am one of those freaks who doesn't really like sandwiches. Or chocolate. In fact I actively dislike chocolate.





Yesterday, I ate 1,200 calories. I burned about 0 since I sit all day at work, take RT home, and sit all night at home. I now weigh 205 lbs even, but I am still in the obese range of my BMI by like 1/4 of a point. Which, to say the least, sucks. The faster I can get out of obese the better. My goal is to be at 185 by the end of next month. It's a large amount to lose, but when you are as overweight as I am, you lose a lot at first because it shouldn't be there in the first place. It is practically more effort to maintain a weight about 20 pounds over my normal overweight limit. In fact it is more effort. And definitely more money.





My mom has lost about 40 pounds and dropped a zillion pants sizes. She is now a 38 HH! Can you imagine. Of course I am a 38 E but still! Anyways, she is going to get her breasts reduced when she gets skinny enough, and I want to so bad and she is hinting that she might buy part of it for me for graduation (a safe 2 years away) if I lose the weight and the boobs persist, which they will. After all, I have her genes to thank for these boobs. Ugh I hate them. They are just so large and persist in ruining any fashionable outfits. Also, they hurt my back and make me slouch. I also find cleavage very unattractive and most of my friends are shocked when I am not wearing something right up at my neck...with a massive scarf over it. I would show you a picture but it isn't working.

Ok done obsessing with my waistline for the moment (interestingly enough, I don't care about the size of my pants usually. Maybe because I have zero hips and zero butt it is something I can control. Unlike my boobs.)

Fat-Bottomed Girls You Make The Rockin' World Go Round

Hi all,

Ok so I am 5'9" tall and I weigh 206.8 lbs. I weighed myself today. Last time I weighed myself I weighed 216. I love food too much and am just getting bigger and bigger so I have decided to make an active effort to focus on my eating habits before university starts up, which is when I will actually be active (as in do exercise and such) so hopefully all will go well. According to my shoddy BMI I am 30.4 which means I am obese. OBESE! I am too young to be obese. I have found this lovely OCD website http://www.fitday.com/ which helps me keep track of what I eat with a food journal, which is especially great when I am at work. I have immediately noticed that I eat way more than I thought and way more than I thought possible on my budget. Of course, bad food is cheap. Its produce and healthy stuff that is expensive. Especially as a vegetarian.

On a related note: what the hell is up with every issue of Cosmo ever? Namely, the fact that they repeatedly suggest brinking food into the bedroom. Not just sweets either, no sirree. Ice cubes? PEPPERS?! Why does this have to exist. I for one am pro a whole kabosh on the food thing. Noone wants to be sticky during sex so that rules out whipped cream, ice cream, fruits, and peanut butter. If you just want to eat while getting laid, frankly that is just asking too much from your partner. Have sex, eat after. That way you'll be refreshed. My boyfriend always has to eat afterwards. It is as if sex burns like 3,000 calories for him (and trust me, the way we do it, it does not). I'm always sleepy so it works out.

No word yet on my new name.

Le Deux

Hey all.
You know what has always bothered me? The term "teabagging" or any reference of a man's balls to teabags. I don't get it. The texture, for one, is all off. A man's testicles aren't so grainy and threaded. It's loose, which a teabag is not, and maleable around the testes, which the actual teaBAG is not around it's tea. Also, a teabag is rather neat and tidy, whereas balls are not. And its not as if teabagging was born from a common activity. I don't normally suck on teabags, the taste is much to unpleasant and strong. Nor do I really put a teabag anywhere near my face. Also, I don't dip any of my male friends balls in hot tea, just for kicks. The visual of that is frightening. You may ask yourself "why is this anonymous chick talking about testicles so early in the morning?". Because I drink alot of tea in the morning, that's why. Earl Grey to be specific. With about 6 sugar packets in it. Its a good boost of caffeine for those non-coffee drinkers out there and I can drink about 20 oz for a dollar. A dollar! What can you buy of any worth these days for a dollar. Tea, that's what.
I usually get my tea before a take the RT to work in the morning. That way it cools down by the time I need it when I get to work. RT is an interesting beast. I love going to work on it, though I may be about the only one. Here are my reasons for loving the RT (in the mornings):
I am nosy:
There is nothing like public transit for people-watching. I watch couples have massive fights, then make out seconds later, I watch kids play in the aisles, I eavesdrop on old black women talking about their good for nothing grandkids in strange southern twangs. I love it! I always bring my book and my sunglasses, and get settled into my corner seat and watch the morning show. People don't usually find me very interesting over their own morning drama show.
I am left alone.
Especially at 7:30 in the morning, no young men are out looking to hit on the pasty chick wearing way to many layers. On the way home that is another story. Also, just in general, if I am on RT, I am not with my parents, who insist on speaking to me so very early in the morning.
I love to read.
It is really the only for-sure time I get to read my book. And I so do love reading, but have little time for it, what with working 40 hours a week and having a life. The book I am reading now is called "A Suitable Boy" by Vikram Seth. A very in-depth view of life in India in the 1930s. Very in-depth, as in 1,500 pages in depth. I enjoy every word.
The scenery.
Ok, most of the RT runs through the ghettos, but there are a few stops that are near parks and old buildings. My stop is right by this gorgeous cathedral that I wander into every so often.
I have always loved cathedrals. Its so calm and quiet inside. Often, I feel like a better person just for stopping in, despite my utter lack of religiousness.

So yes, I love regional transit.
I'm thinking about giving myself a fake name. Mostly because I sound like a douche when I sign of "Me" like, what is that. I am Me! Well fuck that. I will think on this more.

First

Hey all:
Me here. This is my anonymous blog. I had another blog but I decided I needed to be very frank and thus had to go incognito. After all, I just told my parents what a blog was, so now I am sure they will be all over the internets. And, frankly, I want to talk about sex and I can't do that wondering if someone I know will get ahold of this. I like sex and I want to talk about it. Not just sex, mind you, my other passions as well: fashion, photography, fluffy bunnies, manic depression, addiction studies, digital design and such. But first things first. I am at my summer job right now, not working at all so I am going to go do that for a tick and I will be back.

Me