Food; you will be the death of me.

The past few days have been nothing; I have achieved nothing, not my calorie allowance, not work. I feel that I don't deserve to be writing this; I don't deserve to be listening to music. I haven't worked sufficiently to reap these rewards. I haven't been good enough.

But I need some respite. And I am better off than some people. I am not a male suffering from gynomastesia (breast growth). I did not get meat sweats, as did my friend that I went out with tonight. I think she grows bored of me, I think she hates me, which is tragic as I like her a lot. Or, at least, she is vaguely embarrassed of me in front of company. I must admit that I was manic as a result of being in the house too long alone, and that I was wearing no makeup. I should; my complexion is not as it should be. My stomach does feel uncomfortably enlarged, and I don't enjoy it. I worry that larger and larger portions of food will be required, and that equates to a larger me. I don't need to be larger.

All of this is as a consequence of narcissism; if I didn't focus on my own selfish self so very much I wouldn't be as ate up (ha!) over my calorie consumption and lack of academic achievement.

To this end, I shall be taking a leaf from the website howtoloveyoumore.com, and completing tasks such as hanging an encouraging banner places, or some such. I'm thinking of making one saying, "you're worth more than the sum of your parts" in the changing rooms of Zara or another equally size discriminating shop. I will go on runs and do more work. I will complete my days having fun.