Stupid Fat Lady

I swear, one of the most simplistically profound truths I’ve head is the one about there being a fat lady in all of us just dying to come out. I absolutely don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’ve suffered from a bad relationship with food all my life. I’ve never been able to eat and not feel guilty ever since I hit 12, which I swear, is The thing that prevents me from enjoying my life thoroughly. It gets better for awhile, but like everything else in life, it’s cyclical. And these days, I simply haven’t been feeling fantastic about myself, been carbo-loading and just plain eating too many peanut butter sandwiches.

I hate myself for it, and I’ll be damn if there’s a bigger turn off then a woman who cannot stop thinking she’s fatter then she should be. Well, there is a bigger turn off, and that’s when the woman’s really fucking fat and refuses to do anything about it. Yes indeed, I am a fattist (here’s a really bad joke about fat people someone tried to copyright) . And true to human nature, we hate everything we most fear becoming. Everything that we see in other people that tells us that we can become like that too, if we drop our guard. We can become stupid/fat/ignorant if we aren’t careful.

And I hate my ex because whenever I think about him, I go, gosh. Was I so stupid as to have wasted all that time?

But then again, no experience can possibly be a waste, and to regret one's own experiences would be absolutely damaging to my development as a person. To quote very loosely from Wilde. I can’t believe I’m reading The Picture of Dorian Gray again. Did I mention that previously? I’m quite an annoyingly slow reader, because I believe in the beauty of every single word. This is absolutely not desirable under exam conditions, but definitely means I appreciate the little things in life; perhaps.

I picked it up yet again a couple of days ago and decided to finish it, it has so far prove thoroughly engaging. The first time I attempted it was years ago, must have been when I was 13, I didn’t understand a whit. Lord Henry Wotton, for all his amorality, makes so much sense now. And perhaps I should be worried about that, but like I said, I find pleasure in justifying my crimes.

xoxox