last time i looked in the mirror i was a naive little girl with colourful hair who was scared and excited to be going to university.

now i wake with swollen eyes to panic about council tax before i can get back to sleep,

i work 16 hour shifts not only because i really need the money but because i have nothing better to do and like having people to talk to.

i cry quickly without noise and on my own.

(people could make the fuss i dont want to cause and tell me everything will be ok,
but then i would just whisper you don't know that
and they would say i was only trying to help.)

i dont want people to see me as a weakling and crying in public is a bit awkward really. besides, ive written worse on a blog, what is anybody going to do?

my whole day is governed by trivial calculations... how much money do i have for food, how much would cheaper broadband cost split between two, how much am i saving on a bedsit with bills included if the rent is extra, how many calories have i had, how much change does that man need, shit... how many calories have i had again? how much is a cappucino sachet worth if i buy a box of ten, how much is that saving if i stop drinking takeout coffee in town, how many calories have i had NOW, how much is the bus home, how many hours sleep will i get before a ten hour shift if i walk, how many calories will i fail to burn if i dont, and on and on and on and ive always fucking hated maths.

the only thing holding me together is the knowledge that i am trying my best, i KNOW i am.

i could fail and end up jobless and homeless, (and every week until christmas it will be at the front of my mind) but at least i am trying to live in the real world and not taking a step backwards just because it would be convenient.

when i look in the mirror now, i remind myself of the part in slaughterhouse 5 when the old lady says to her son,

"when did i get so old?"

I know this doesn't belong on the world wide web but I don't have anyone to talk to about it in real life (I don't suppose I would talk a great deal about it even if I could) and I certainly don't have much to lose.

At 21 years old I have spent so much time worrying about the way I look that I have let myself turn into a bit of a monster.

Everything is out of proportion with everything else because I keep losing and gaining weight at the wrong pace and in the wrong places, and it doesn't even matter because nobody noticed or cared either way.

I still get out of bed every morning to go to work or finish my university deadlines, I still have friends and I am still alone. I am probably still healthy, but not as healthy as I once was.

In a year, nothing has changed on the outside, but I have wasted a lot of time worrying to myself. The worst part is, I'm not done worrying, not even close.

I guess the point of this is to quote something I heard once;

"If you can't be a good example, you can be a horrible warning."

On the plus side, at least it shows how lucky I am. If I had real problems I wouldn't have time to waste worrying about something so trivial.

goodnight.

Watching lulu on the tv just now, I got very annoyed. She was talking about the ways plastic surgery can ruin a face, without being capable of moving hers at all. She does look great for her age but seeing a multi millionaire with a great shape and great figure doesn’t mean anything to normal women with regular salaries. I don’t know what I want to do with my life but I am as good as certain it will never involve being rich, so to see a rich women looking great is worse than seeing poor people look terrible, because it shows that it is attainable. The possibility that a woman can look amazing at 50 exists, but only as long as you have a disposable fortune. This impossible goal is cruel, and can destroy self confidence if you use it in comparison with yourself.
What people really need to see is how realistic goals can be reached. This is the point at which I realised how blessed I am to have such great role models.

At my age, my mum definitely had a better figure than me. She lost it over the years, but always manages to look brilliant whatever she is wearing because she knows how to flatter herself, and accessorises with quirky jewellery without making it look like an overstatement. She has never dyed her hair so it looks great, and she doesn’t wear too much make up either, which works in her favour. My Grandma and Auntie on my Dads side of the family look impeccable for their age. Perhaps it is in part due to “good genes” but the fact that they eat well, sleep properly and exercise regularly has to have had some effect on it all. They don’t look “young” because they are not young. They just look great for their age. I don’t want to have a shiny, stretched face with no expression; I want wrinkles that show me as a real person with emotions.

My obsession with weight is embarrassing. After death, being fat is the thing I fear most, and I know that makes me a hideously shallow person. I am going to get old; that much is unavoidable (perhaps if nothing else it will bring some clarity) but the thought of spreading out absolutely terrifies me. Seeing the women on both sides of the family looking as well as they do gives me some confidence. I am blessed that the only things they have wanted me to change are my piercings and provocative clothes, both of which I grew out of on my own. They embraced me being an individual teenager, and always said “dare to be different” So I did. I can only imagine how horrible it would be to encounter adults trying to change how you looked and felt. I hear dreadful stories about mothers who tell girls with perfect figures to lose weight because of their own insecurities, and I hope if I have children I would have the backbone to love them no matter how they looked and not pass on any of my own hang-ups about self image, just the way my family have.

became a fan of...

i was recommended the chinese horoscope application on facebook.

on the first day in months that i came close to exceeding my recommended daily allowance i read this:

Be vigilant as far as your food is concerned so as to avoid taking on weight which would transform itself into horrible folds of fat.

i think the chinese horoscope understands my needs.

these ships

are you the sort of woman
who wears make up when you sleep?
does the sight of lipstick on his collar
make you want to weep?
did you realise he was just
another boring metaphor
when he shouted you are perfect
and whispered for a whore...?

is his beauty really wonderful
or carved trouble deep?
did you notice when he said
i do not want you 'till you're cheap
did you think he wouldn't look at you
until he saw your ribs?
did you think perhaps he'd love you
if you tried to shrink your hips?

when he smiles does it hurt
because he paralysed your lips?
will it ruin his career
if you choose to sink these ships?
when you slip your fingers down your throat
do you think of him?
did he let you tell yourself
that nothing tastes as good

as being thin?

one day

one day i am going to keep a tally on one arm of how often i have a silly thought about death and a tally on the other of how often i think about my appearence and i shall report back with numbers, and then get a real hobby and maybe a grip.

"Trying to look good limits my life." -Stefan Sagmeister

ltd.

perhaps no women

is happy with herself inside and out.

and

perhaps most women

would rather be big and satisfied rather than small and insecure.