a very special episode of "the meredith show"
lately, i've been bitching and whining about how poor i am. and how i really need to move. i recently mentioned arkansas as an option (jokingly) in an email. here was part of the response:
so, arkansas? don't you think you would
stick out just a little being all beautiful and brilliant like you are
flattery. coming from an exboyfriend. yes, it's been attack of the killer exes week here on the meredith show. this ex i can't really avoid, however. he's a temp through the agency i work at. (i know, stupid me, dating a quasi-coworker...you'd think i'd have learned from when i dated an ACTUAL coworker) but he's a really really nice guy, and i was a bitch to him back in the day...so it's just...awkward.
so all this complimentary nonsense is being flung in my general direction. it's all bullshit. you know why? because...i have NO reason to believe the people who tell me this. it's not coming from the direction i need hope want it to, so therefore it is rendered useless and false. why would i believe people that have no bearing on my life whatsoever? i don't know...maybe i should? i'm not getting accolades on my hotttttttness or sexxxxxayness otherwise these days.
hence why i do what i do. the fact that i have gained 20 (yes, now we're up to TWENTY) pounds since i moved to lovely hatfield, has given me a strong desire to shove my head in the oven. my willpower has been shit as of late -- i haven't been able to fast, or even restrict for that matter. all i do is binge binge binge. and my purging attempts have been unsuccessful. (yes, it's an unpleasant topic. deal.) the xenedrine and trimspa aren't helping. fucking frustrating as hell.
depression has this tendency to make me want to eat and drink myself into a smushy, pickled state. not good for the figure. no-sir-ee-bob.
so now i'm low-carbing for the weekend. if i can keep my sorry and ever-expanding ass motivated. i figure low carbing will help me not want to eat everything in sight, will drop me some pounds right quick...god willing.
it's quite amusing. i was thinking about this earlier. back when i was a "lush" or whatever, i was so open and honest about it -- and no one cared, no one believed that i even HAD a problem, and no one really checked on me. i could have gotten away with drinking 40's everyday, and no one would have known. (i didn't, by the way. just in case you were concerned. which i know you weren't). same thing with my quote-unquote dieting. at the hovering around 150 (*sobs hysterically*) pound weight that i'm at, and curvy size 8-10-or-12 depending-on-the-brand that i am...if i said, "oh, you know...i probably have some sort of eating disorder" -- ha! everyone would laugh in my fucking face. i don't LOOK anorexic or bulimic, do i...?
exactly
(that would be ED-NOS, people)
oh, if only i was the 110 pound picture of perfection. i don't like being, in most situations, larger than most of my coworkers, my friends, the girls in the club, or ex-girlfriends. it's not a nice feeling. i don't like having to compare myself other girls, whether i've met them or not...and know that i just don't rate.
look at my sister -- 5'4, 100lbs (maybe), U Penn ivy league grad, NYU MBA, has a gorgeous husband and beautiful son. They both have stellar jobs and make tons of money, drive AUDIs and live in suburban (read: hella expensive) NJ. they've been to more countries and tropical islands that i will ever see in my lifetime. she's thin, beautiful, successful and gorgeous. all the things i'm not. and will never be.
but i keep trying. and hey, clearly i'm not underweight, my hair isn't falling out, and i'm not pale or sickly looking...so there ain't no cause for alarm. right?
i have to laugh. all the things that i am, and that i've been through...and no one seems to be concerned or alarmed. it was only when i told people that i had visions of standing in the street slashing my wrists and thinking "i want to die" that an eyebrow was even raised. but i overcame that one. sure, suggestions were made, but eventually it was up to me to call the doctor, to get the meds adjusted and all that happy-frappy bullshit. i could have lied. i could never called the doctor or anything like that...but i'm SUPERWOMAN...i wouldn't let anyone down like that.
sometimes i wonder what low i'd have to reach to get some actual REAL concern. since the world seems to think that i'm so strong and resilient and can handle anything. my everyday misery has become so goddamn cliche, that it doesn't even register with those closest to me anymore. back in the days of my "drinking problem", after about 6 months or so, the few people who did ask how it was going...just stopped. after my suicidal episode...after a week or 2 it was back to life as usual. because i bounce back. i'm a trooper. i guess it's a good thing, huh?
maybe i make too much of things, and that really i should just be EXPECTED to be okay. maybe i carry on too much. maybe i am a baby (as i was told a few years back). maybe i am an extreme attention whore.
I AM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR BEING SELFISH. I'M SORRY FOR BEING SO GODDAMN INSECURE THAT I FEAR, MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD, THAT IF I FADE OUT OF YOUR IMMEDIATE CONSCIOUSNESS, THEN I FADE OUT OF YOUR HEARTS TOO. I'M SORRY THAT I'M NOTHING. I'M SORRY THAT I'M NOT SMART OR BEAUTIFUL OR SUCCESSFUL. I'M SORRY THAT I HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER BUT ...my own heart. I'M SORRY THAT I GET HURT WHEN YOU DON'T ASK HOW I AM. I'M SORRY THAT IT'S ASSUMED THAT ALL IS WELL. I AM SO SORRY THAT I'LL PROBABLY NEVER BE 100% HAPPY, AND THAT I'LL ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT...BE IT HUGE OR TRIVIAL.
I'M SORRY THAT I GET UPSET OVER THINGS THAT NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW ABOUT, BECAUSE I'M TOO SCARED TO ASK FOR THINGS THAT I WANT OR NEED...BECAUSE I KNOW THAT I DON'T DESERVE THEM.
if that ain't a recipe for faiure, i don't know what is...
posted by: less-than3
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