Calories today-1630

And I don't like it. I need some fruit and vegetables, desperately. Today I had four portions, it should be over five.

He does like me? He's always saying I'm ugly, teasing me. This can be good or bad. He doesn't like spotty people, and I am spotty at the moment.

I nearly thought he might say something tonight. We were sitting and touching our feet together, or our knees. Sometimes hand and knee. God, he's beautiful, pompous, ridiculous, and wonderful. I spent the time mentally fitting myself round him, thinking how I could so easily grow into that space under his arm, how I could grain my head into the stoop of his back.

I feel like I'm writing to him sometimes, though I'd die if he saw this because I whine so much in it. If it's not about him it's about how I look, both utterly superficial. I'd consider myself intelligent, yet most of my time I'm morose, supposing about maudlin things.

I'd write him a letter beginning, "dearest".

He said that his body was a car crash again today. Every time he says it makes me wonder what is wrong; or if there is anything at all. He's such a perfectionist, I'd bet there isn't. If there was, i would kiss every scar. I'd cast a hand over whatever it is that lies beneath the three habitual layers he wears and I'd tell him that it didn't matter, or that it did but only to make me like him more. It shows what he has been; I know he hates being anchored to anything, but I like it. It makes him surer. And I'd never tell anyone. It would be for us, together, like our secret.

Everyone can see my fat, but I wonder how I'd feel if he said he liked it. I don't like the thought at all of it being acknowledged as me, or as part of me. I don't want to be a person that is a fat girl. I don't accept it because it is not me; that is not who I really am. Maybe this is how he feels about himself. I don't think I'd like it more, even if he did.