F is for...

Failure.
Fat.
Fake.
Filthy.
Faulty.


F is also for...
Flawless.
Fair.
Frail.
Funny.
Friendly.


I want to be the second group of adjectives, but I'm always stuck in the first group.

Would you believe, I actually ENJOYED eating dinner at Friendly's tonight? (for those of you who don't know what Friendly's is... I can't really describe it. It's heaven and hell all in one fried ball of comfort food. I think it's a North-Eastern U.S. thing... but Southerners have Chick-fil-A.... bitches.)
Now don't get me wrong. Every moment my stomach got fuller was agonizing. Inside my head was a jumble of mashed up thoughts that went something like this:
WHATTHEFUCKAREYOUDOINGWHYWHYWHYDOYOUKNOWHOWMANYCALORIESAREINTHATDOYOUHAVEANYIDEAWHATTHEHELLYOU'REDOING?!?STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!!!!

But I enjoyed pretending to be a normal eater for an hour. I enjoyed pretending that there wasn't anything wrong with me.
However. I have made absolutely no significant progress in January so far.
Mid-years are next week, so I'm going to fast. As long as possible. Tomorrow might not be an option, since my mother wants to go out to dinner. Again. Fuuuck you mother.

You know those like, friend things on Facebook where you can like click yes or no to questions like "Has so and so ever done weed?" or "Is this person hot?"
I always get no's for hot, cute, etc. Ouch. It kind of hurts my feelings, even though I know it's stupid.

See, people like skinny people. They don't like fat people. Which is why I need to be skinny. To make me more attractive. But maybe I'm just ugly. That's another possibility.