Tragic fatties.

Well, two things scared me weight wise today. I've ate a vegetable stir fry with egg and raisins and yoghurt- that was scary because I felt like before, I didn't want to stop snacking and I hate that feeling. The answer is to eat more regularly. That resulted in my waist increasing to 28.5 inches, but I remeasured without clothes and it was 27 again, so no spontaneous weight gain has occured. And my arse was 38.5. Unfortunately my chest is 36.5. I don't know why I expect my chest to increase when I lose weight, because it's never been well endowed. I suppose I do want this perfect physique... not that I want huge, page three girl boobs, but just a C cup instead of an A might be nice. 34A is such a depressing size; broad and flat like a prairie. Come on. If I wasn't flat chested I might not be as bendy, and I'd only find that boobs got in the way eventually.

The other thing was a woman today. She wasn't scary, just tragic. I tried not to stare. On campus there is a building which houses two shops that sell food and a cafe. I saw her first in one of the shops and then in the cafe. She had to weigh at least twenty stones. The tragedy was that she was wearing thin girl clothes. The feminist in me hates that I speak like this. Leggings, denim miniskirt, hoodie. It was all very... deluded? No, I think she knew how she looked. I am a bitch. Anyway, I only think like this because I worry that it could happen to me. I could be that one that everyone's staring at, it would only take a few cakes and bang, there I am, not a point of admiration but merely one of reference and disgust. It's difficult for fat people to be tragic as thin ones are.

I know another girl that's fat and has the silliest voice. That only serves to exacerbate the situation.