don’t really have time for all that is on my mind
how do i stop?
i’m so tired.
why do my thighs have to be just a little too big and my upper arms a little too fatty to wear my own clothes? how do i stop hating this one thing? i have 3 dresses that are hard to wear because my arms are too fat. i have many pairs of pants that i can’t wear at all because they fall off my waist yet stick tightly taut to my thighs.
it burns a little to try and whiten my teeth so i tell myself to stop drinking coffee, tea and red wine and damn me to hell if i have a smoke with a friend. that must be why it burns.
i struggle to find comfort in a most wonderfully comfortable and cozy bed every single night now. i am lazy for not washing my face even though i “didn’t wear any make up”. i lecture myself about any horrible food choices i made that day. i writhe in guilt for not burning enough calories to burn my vanity away. that is all this is. vanity.
how do i stop?
why do i try so hard to begin with?
oh but i don’t. i’m so lazy. maybe i have no energy from spending it all on guilt.
i just want to slide into a nice pair of pants and not worry that my thighs will rip them apart when i get in or out of the car. is that so much to ask? how can it be so hard to fix? is it my fault for wanting that skinny leg to fit inside my boots? is this my punishment for not walking my dogs? what the actual fuck.
do i really need to be a size 9? or 11? sometimes a 13 is even a poor fit. you are saying these are just numbers and that is indeed true but they are important numbers because they fill my closet and dictate my self esteem each day when i have to pass things over until “another 20 pounds” or more. so more leggings and baggy sweaters and long over-sized everything else. i will keep stretching out my clothes before i hang them to dry just so i can hopefully keep putting on that cardigan that hides my waves of flab under my arms.
oh just shoot me someone please. this is not living.