but yes, see for yourself
November 11, 2002, 5:51 pm
The outpouring of support, condolences, readers awash in aghastness is overwhelming, to say the least. To everyone who wrote me in response to yesterday's entry, I thank you very sincerely.
I want to dispell any rumors circulating that my mother sucks. She doesn't; in fact, she's far from it. She is, more than I realize perhaps, looking out of my best interests. In truth I believe she feels a tine guilty; see, she's a little heavier than me, and I think she feels responsible that I would let myself get to the point I have because of her permissiveness (nevermind, of course, that all of this weight came pretty much from college, as in high school I ran about 3 miles a day; in college, I drank about 13 beers a day, so you see how it all evens out).
The truth is, I'm sick of this. I'm sick of my knees hurting and being lifeless all the time; I'm sick of finding the slow, scrawling stretch marks underscore the paunch of my tum. I'm sick of how I'm a raucous party girl because if I weren't, I'd be invisible in crowds because I'm embarrassed to speak up or draw attention to myself. I'm sick of how my first thought when meeting someone is to wallow in my own self-pity; it isn't that I'm afraid that they won't like me, but because of my own issues that creep out of my head and scream in my face.
I tired, tired, tired of having to explain to my sister why I can't bring myself to go out downtown Annapolis by myself because I feel self-conscious.
I'm finished ranting now; *sigh*.