Blah blah blah

Bombazine doll (I need a new epiteth) definitely does like someone else, the girl I whined about with musical skill and dark curly hair. And all those other fantastic attributes in which I am sadly lacking. Ugh. The whole affair is just redolent of ugh. That is the only noise I can make about how I feel about the whole thing, and how stupid I feel in general. Just so stupid not to realise she didn't like me like that. I feel so angry and jealous and disgusted with myself for feeling like that.

All that which in me I abhor, holds me tight to what went before....

So I'll trickle back into dieting in the hope that when she sees me again I'll be a tiny petite little thing and she'll pity me and hold me, and I will be able to be what I want because who can hate someone with a perfect figure?

That is all complete bullshit, and I know it. Well, really I must not know it at all to be thinking it, must I?

I went on a walk today and shouted some poetry into bleak urban landscape, which is incredibly pretentious. But noone heard and it felt good to scream some Sylvia Plath, a bit of Coleridge. Some Eurythmics, haha. Before falling on my arse in mud and scratching my back with brambles. I waved to a farmer who didn't really see me. I sprang over tufts of sodden grass and watched each tiny metal carriage on the carriageway drift by not knowing a girl in the field was jumping and singing and living. I trailed down an embankment and slid, I hopped over tree falls and crept through witchways covered over with bony grey brittle branches that caught at my coat and begged me to stay. I checked behind me in case they were holding me hostage, and mused that as a child, I never thought of the bottles on the floor as being for drug use. I didn't think that they were because people loved fizzy drinks; I just didn't think. I looked to see if junkies desperate for a fix or some rape were following me and carried on. The wind blew my hair back into my eyes. I am always hindering myself. I followed a dirty brook and thought how I fit into this landscape; these fields so close to polluting motorway that reclaim bits of it anyway, this permanent contradiction where one is always trying to take over the other. I liked it. On a bridge near an industrial park, bridging the wild (I call it wild, it is just fields and trees and half stiles in mud) there were brambles over a road block. Weeds. Weeds will tear you down and scratch away artifice, once humanity is gone, I am sure of it. It made me feel better.

I ate:

a breakfast (mushrooms, tomatoes, beans, a sausage, a potato thing) (300)

six minstrels and a happy hippo (175)

a crumpet and a potato cake (300)

some pasta and bean (100)

some thai curry (300)

a happy hippo (125)

an apple (40)

a light mocha frappucino (100)

a biscuit (60)

1500 exactly. Still too much, but I'll go to uni and be away from all this ridiculous food. I always feel it is more than I write, I must begin a food diary. This is almost one.

My Mum talked to me today about how my sister has put on weight. She won't say anything to her, just encourage her to make healthy food choices. I can't see she has, but apparently her clothes are getting tighter. She's ten. She's always been a bit chubby, but not obese or anything. I don't think you can do anything about it when you're a kid- you are or aren't fat. She is, but she'll slim out. And she's pretty so she doesn't have to worry so much. I was fat and ugly, still am. Shame. I think she'll work out that healthy food encouragement is because she's getting bigger- I think I did. And also that that'll bug her, because she probably will eat healthily in an attempt to lose weight but not lose any because she's fated to be chubby till she's thirteenish, like me and my brother did (yes, I am still fat but not as fat as I was). I remember my parents never believing I ran round at playtime, though I did, as much as my skinny friends, and even then I knew it was because I was fat. I don't want my sister to know. I don't know how I can be a good role model for her. She saw me lose lots of weight and get lots of attention. She saw me put it back on, and probably people say things behind my back. The best I'm doing is not being critical of myself and using fat as a descriptive as opposed to in the perjorative form. But it must seep through- all children absorb their elder's self esteem. I don't want her to absorb mine!