She's got the glim, vigour and vim, black magic runs under watery skin.

I think... I think I might be over her. Just snap, like that, when I realised I liked her... but she maybe wasn't the one. I am jealous she has found new love first, but then again I am a jealous person and used to being romantically inept. I don't suppose I'll like anyone else for a while (non platonically) but I can deal with that. It was like a slow dulling of pain, till it became a small bolus in the back of my throat. A relief from the socking great wedge that was there before. I'm even a little bit glad she can be happy, if pissed off she lied to me about liking me in the first place. But I suppose she couldn't have done anything else.

One of my wondrous teachers is getting an MBE. This makes me very happy, knowing he will be rewarded for... well, I assume his teaching career. Though I am virulently anti monarchy. I shall write to him and tell him congratulations. Maybe with a card.

Eating today:

2 cookies (big fuck off ones) (600)
pesto and pasta (400)
apple (40)
some bean salad (130)
chocolate (200)
vodka and coke (100)

That is... shit, but not as bad as yesterday. So, well done me for improving. Less than 1600, so... hopefully I've created a deficit. I didn't eat when I got back from the pub. Fucking hell, why the chocolate? Tomorrow I will do some exercise and do better. Fatty excuses piss me off. Which is what I am making.

I watched a documentary on obese texans. Anything to do with extreme weights, or weight issues, fascinates me. Anyway, one woman was about 42 stone, I worked out. 645lbs. About four times what I weigh. And she had (or at least, maintained a facade of) being truly happy with herself. Power to her. But I thought that she was putting an unnecessary strain on health services, or was bound to in the future, and that you shouldn't be so delusional when you couldn't walk. I know people say the same about health for the dangerously thin, but they tend to at least die quietly of their heart attacks, and most are mobile up till the end. How can you be happy when you lose basic mobility, or are that uncomfortable, and know you've brought it upon yourself? She thought she looked hot in a black mesh body suit. To be fair, she had a point. Would I rather be obese with high self esteem or thin with low? As long as I was mobile. I like to think I'd pick being happy, because that is what I want. But being thin is something I've always wanted, from a small child. I felt people would look at me with wonder and amazement if I was a tiny dot, that was how it went in books and in real life. I was short and round, and definitely not pretty. But short at least. Then I grew, and now I seem to loom over everyone, which is disheartening. Like Madame Defarge in A Tale of Two Cities.

My romantic ponderings are as follows. I want someone who I like that likes me back, properly. So. The ponderings are as follows:
My friend's housemate, who could be best characterised as portly gentleman. He is lovely, clever, larger than me... shy. Tender and shy.
My best friend from home. I always assumed he and I would end up together, because we get on so well and have the same interests. We understand each other. There is affinity, where I know he is arrogant and I am too stupid, but it is there. He, however, has a german girlfriend. I am glad she is not pretty. This makes me a bad person. I know, deep down, that maybe I can win him. He got tipsy on new year and laid his head in my lap.
Jewish gay man. He is also intelligent, a bit snotty, moody; gay. However, I did have a crush on him. He is good looking. I like that he says, "that's so funny" deadpan, instead of laughing. And sometimes if we go out and I am wearing a low cut dress he will kiss my bare back, little butterfly kisses. So maybe he is not so gay after all.

There are no women on the horizon. I can't think of any at the moment that are even remote possibilities. I don't think any of the men are either, but it is nice to hypothesise.