La mort de la grosse fille.

"You know you've changed when your own cousin doesn't recongize you." - Felicia

Amazing.

Have you ever had a moment of complete epiphany? Where something that has bother you suddenly makes sense?

Today, my good friend Marianne made a very good point that never occurred to me. She said that these feelings, these thoughts, these 'not-sure-what-the-hell-is-going-on-with-me' moments - it's mourning.

Mourning for the person I was.

As easy as it seems and as much as this makes sense, it took her saying it to me to open my eyes to it.

And now I just want to cry.

I'm not sure why.

Cry for the person I was. Cry for the fucking fat girl.

The girl who, when stressed, would eat so much she would be miserable. Who would turn to food as a crutch. Sad, lonely, rejected - food was it.

Since 2005, I have gone from this to this:



While yes, I feel better and it is wonderful - I think I am fully comprehending that this girl - The girl above in my favorite pink shirt which is now my night shirt - is still inside me. And she kinda has no idea what has happened.

I have taken her life, which was:

1 ham & cheese omelet
1 chicken & cheese casadea
1 hand full of sunflower seeds
1 half candy bar
1 meal from mcdonald's

And replaced it with:
1 hamburger with no bun
5 tater tots

That is all I ate today. My fat girl is fucked up! She's gone psycho!

I told Rebecca, "I can't depend on food anymore when I am stressed. I don't smoke. I don't drink often. I don't smoke pot. I guess I'm just going to have to have more sex."

This is what I get for being a good girl. An angry fat girl inside who never eats.

She will eventually die, I hope. And the new person, who can eat these small amounts (remember I don't get hungry) and not be angry at the world when she's stressed will emerge.