Monday, 2 June 2008

Little Bird and her own preoccupations.

She's worried about her body. We went out the other night with friends and I could see that she was feeling worried about it; she'd like to take some MDMA and it certainly might work wonders.

We were getting ready and she went through so many outfits before settling on one. I did her hair; I put it up because she's got a perfect face that needs to be seen. It's not just deluded me that thinks this, but others do too; they tell her she looks lovely when she wears it up. She's so beautiful. She was worried that I was lying to her about which outfit to choose; this is something that I would never do. I told her as much, and exemplified that by adding that I disliked her shoes, but that the outfits all looked similar; and that it was down to taste. I wanted to hug her and tell her that I didn't care if she was fat or thin or whatever, because she was beautiful, but I simply couldn't be that effusive and instead settled for;

"Noone will deny that you've put on weight, but you're still beautiful. Look, I am honest about these things and I am telling you that you look lovely."

I know that acknowledging the weight gain makes her distraught; I can't stand people acknowledging mine, but then, I settle for outfits straight off. Maybe we're different like that. I thought that if she could see that I was being honest in that, she'd see that I was honest about everything that I thought. I don't know how to work her out; I don't know how to help her stop bingeing or how to feel that she is lovely and beautiful, because she is. She said her nose was too big and I stopped her dead; I said she'd moaned about her weight enough and she couldn't start on her perfect face. I told her about the hair off the face only when it's perfect theory. I don't know if she'll take any notice.

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