That is what she said about her birthmark tonight; one on her shoulder and one on her stomach. I wanted to say, "You are perfect as you are". I have tried so hard to rid myself of this stupid obsession that I want it for her too; I don't even think she likes being tied up in food and things, and I don't want her to have that hanging over her. I hate sounding patronising, because lord knows my food relations are still less than perfect. But I hope for better for her than I do for myself.
She is perfectly lovely, and so pretty that she even makes my awful headband I wear to study look good. One day I will tell her that she has bad qualities; but they are over enthusiasm and flightiness. These are none so bad, dear. You're beautiful, kind, funny, clever... there's a list of complimentary adjectives.
The other night she said she just wanted to be mean to whoever she was in a relationship with, or just to be desperately cruel to someone. I understand; she's been through a lot and she needs to let it out.
The man she likes was insensitive today. He called her fat, in front of people (and I know him, he is not malicious or horrible, and was only saying it because he doesn't think she is at all fat) but she thinks that she is at the moment. Misinterpretations are hazardous. He's directing her in a play and she doesn't like that he is arrogant as a director (all directors have to be, though, I think). Having said that, she doesn't mind when I refer to her as a pork in our stupid accent. I wonder if she knows she is beautiful? I might send her a post I wrote about her a while ago. To make her happier.
Monday, 25 February 2008
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