Tuesday, 30 January 2007

Good day, shame I'm a heiffer.


Consumption today reached ludic levels, continuing the blast of binge that has cumulated from fronts arising between willpower and self esteem.


Here is what I wish I had ate today:


tortellini (goats cheese and pesto) 450

A chicken wrap -240

tortellini again for dinner- 450

tomatoes-20

an apple (40)

a tangerine (20)


That would have been 1200; quite respectable.


But I also ate:

two brazil nuts coated in chocolate, half a white chocolate mouse and a fudge cube (pic n mix) (100)

two chocolate biscuits-160

dates (200)

three cocktails and a shot of tequila. The cocktails were martini-cosmopolitan types, not the fatty ones. Not that it makes much difference.

a slice of bread and low fat cream cheese. (100)


which adds a stupendous 560 calories, leaving out alcohol. I could say, I walked, I burned off some of it, I'm on my period and bound to eat more, but then I look at this list and think, no wonder I am fatty fat fat fat.


I did walk.


Let me explain the correlation between self esteem and willpower. Willpower arises from the knowledge that one can; for example, this occurs in academia; in other circles, where I was fairly authoritative, I can speak with wisdom and experience. Place me with high ranking intellectuals, and instead of feeling stimulated, I am intimidated by their vast swathes of knowledge as compared to my shallow puddle. Self esteem (knowing that I have fulfilled the ideal self of sticking to my allowance and maintaining my goals) is shattered when I look in the mirror and see my porcine reflection. Consequently, the goal is unreachable; I may as well eat what I will.


And I miss having someone; when I am lost in seas of adoration, it sustains me better than food can. It isn't even a butterflied stomach; it's just the idea of them. If I'm honest, the idea of being perfect for them. I don't think I've got much to offer; I could at least offer a half decent body. I suppose this could be applicable to general life. Also, that I don't want people to look at me and pity me. It's the pity; "God, look at the size of her", and the inevitable reflection on how I must be sad inside. I'm actually not; I am fairly happy, but, as with most people, I externalize happiness and internalize what is left.


I am worried about the amount of things I must memorise shortly. Vagina Monologue scripts and the like. I did have a good day today though; lots of laughter with my director in rehearsals, lots of laughing with friends after. I really like most of my cast, but not one specific girl; let's call her posersloane. Posersloane turned up to the first rehearsal with an air of malaise clad in a woolly hat AND sunglasses, in winter. SUNGLASSES IN WINTER. This is why I believe she is a complete penis. That, and she is too vocal concerning the directon of our play (our director is wonderful), and I always get a vibe from her that I'm not interesting enough to hold her noncholant attention; in short (and she is vertically challenged), she is up herself, dear readers. But there are some very interesting, amusing people as well; my favourites are two friends I've got already, they're very funny (we make up fake raps, which are terrible), my director (he is loud, and a man directing The Vagina Monologues), the producer's aide (quietly confident, clever, amusing jewish girl the same age as me), timid girl, small cockney girl, two girls I didn't know before but are very good actresses but not at all full of themselves, and the rest in general.

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