Image by Christi Nielsen via FlickrIt's 9:20 in the morning and I already hate this day. The evidence shows that I had another zombie binge. Dang and blast cereal and soy milk. Surely it could have been worse though. I could have had something high fat or ... WHO CARES!
The assumption that I'm a flipping retard should be freely made by all. What I weigh doesn't matter. I'm already a skinny bitch. Why must I carry this need to be the skinniest bitch.Even though I am, in most social situations. (Let's pretend for a moment that I have an active social life.) I'm always afraid that there will be someone smaller or in better shape than me. Why is that part of this illness? It's annoying.
So is counting. Counting. Counting. Counting. And having to exercise >12 hours a week. And being afraid to eat anything. And getting so hungry that my benzo'd out sleeping self gets out of bed to eat. And having to take time to fucking puke when I feel full/fat. GAH!
I WANT ONE DAY OF NORMALCY. ONE DAY THAT MY THOUGHTS AREN'T POLLUTED WITH THIS INSANE, IRRELEVANT CRAP. I DON'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT MY BMI, so why does it mean everything to me?
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