Sunday, November 20, 2016


I'm always wondering if this is really the real me.
I have a plan. Lose weight, Get married. Have babies. But I think my worst fear is that I will never be skinny.
I remember how dark it was when I was at my lowest weight. In pictures I looked underweight even though I wasn't even close. I looked beautiful. I even remember through all of the horrible shit that was happening to me at the time that I was happy in my own body. I know I would be again.
I have to get there.
It kills me that I'm not there now.

I'm never even really sure I want that life- married with kids.
I don't want to miss out on it, but I'm not sure I actually want it either.
But that's what normal healthy people do.
I just wish I didn't have to be healthy for my relationship.
I sometimes wish my partner was just as interested in all of that other shit as me.

I dyed my hair back to brown. At first I liked it. It didn't take long to change my mind.
I miss the silver with blue and green and pink streaks. I miss how long it was. I made a mistake with my hair and had to cut it.
It feels like I lost my freedom. Having short hair marked the worst years of my life. I hated it then. There's something so freeing about having hair down to your butt. The kind everyone envies no matter how fat you are.

Before my birthday last month I mentioned very briefly that maybe I should get a tattoo for my birthday and my bf's sister was like, "I want a tattoo!" And started talking about where she would get it and money and it just shut me down. She has three huge ones already and I feel like something that should excite me is now poisoned.

How hard would it have been to just not think about herself for once?

I know my hatred for her is stupid but it's hard not to feel jealous when everyone around her jumps through hoops to make her happy even though she's a shitty person. Whereas my family doesn't even acknowledge my existence.

When I had to terminate my pregnancy earlier this year, my partner was so worked up about how stressful it was for him that I felt as if I was on my own through all of it. His mom kept telling me that she didn't think I could handle it and my mom proceeded to tell me how she heard the voice of a little girl telling her to save her from me. Yeah.

Why is it so hard to find good support?

Anyways. I'm going to sip some wine and see if I can get back to sleep...

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