A let down.

Today I let down the Lady of the House. I let down my Mother, who thought she'd done better than teach me to be irresponsible and not ring back people offering me cleaning jobs. I let down the netball team.

I was having fun with friends. My brother teased me for what we were doing (making signs to hang on the canal by my house). I think he's an arse. It makes me sad.

I'm sadder that I let these people down.

Mum told me that someone she works with thinks I'm lovely and incandescent with energy and just a cool person.

That's nice.

Here's my eating today:

a kitkat-107
1/4 a jacket potato-100
a bowl of bran flakes and raisins-250

457

chicken rogan josh with a little bit of veg and a little naan and some rice-600

a kitkat-107
a hot chocolate-40
tsp ice cream-40

887

added together is 1344.

I can deal with that just about though I haven't done any exercise apart from a little tiny walk.

Scale to skin is all too few, to keep me from you.

Mange tout:

tortellini (325)
1/4 an eccles cake (75)

an apple (40)
a brownie (400)

scotch broth (8o)
1.5 slices of white bread (84 cals a slice) (120)

an eccles cake (300)

options hot chocolate (60)
2 biscuits (50)
dates

1410. And dates; which are about 100 calories. So 1500. And I thought I'd done so well today. Ha. Ah well, always tomorrow.

I felt fluey today and yesterday. I had the sensation you get, when you feel like your skin's got pins and needles but without the stab, almost as if it's not my own. It makes getting dressed or changing position feel strange. I had the start of a headache, and the fuzz feeling. Because I don't ever get ill, my reaction to these symptoms was hyperbolic; I first suspected a case of bird flu, shortly afterwards tending to a self diagnosis of meningitis, or a light case of pleurisy or bronchitis. As my symptoms have subsided, and were in fact none so bad, I decide that instead I simply had a slight infection. Today I've been coughing up phglem, which I find bizarrely cathartic considering my stance on vomiting. It's a relief to see the sodding microbes that plague you leave your body, after much effort and hacking away on your part, in a globular yellow stream. It's also good to feel your throat briefly cleared. Anyway, possibly because of the phlegm coughing, or maybe because I was offered two parts in my amateur theatre group (yes, it is amateur, and that was a brag that there will be more of later) I felt well enough to resume my usual skip to rehersals today. Albeit wheezing and bent double with the cough. I also reek of sweat; this could be because I haven't showered today, or because the disease is fleeing my corpus. Either way, I offend myself with my own reek. My hair is greasy, I haven't bothered with makeup; I am not attractive.

I need to do washing up before my housemates grow exasperated with my pile of pots, pans and plates. I usually keep on top of it, but I've been busy; too busy for general hygiene, it would appear.

I was offered a part in Fear and Misery in The Third Reich (Brecht) and The Seagull (Chekov). I chose Polina in the Chekov. I only pertain to a hazy idea of what such a role entails; it was more a process of elimination. The Brecht play would have offered a bigger role, I think, but it seems very conscious theatre; the sort of theatre that people become involved in to get their message across, break taboos, yeah, 'cos there's all this shit goin' on in the world we can change via interpretative dance.... whilst I love to move, I haven't got much faith in the directors. Chekov's will be amazing, I know. And that will reflect well on me; all actions are ultimately narcissistic. One girl that is in the Vagina Monologues didn't get a part, though she got lots of recalls; I was surprised. She's not like posersloane; she's pretty, slim, small, an amazing actress, but most importantly, very easy to get on with, interesting and very well known within the theatre. I'd have thought people would have seen her recall and taken her straight away. But it seems she was too good at too many parts. I don't know why she didn't get a part; it does seem strange that she wouldn't.

Ok. Tomorrow I will have my usual calorific breakfast, then for lunch something light in calories such as a sandwich, then my scotch broth for dinner. I will buy some fruit and veg. If I follow this, it leaves me a fair few calories to play around with. I know this is a ridiculous thing to rule my life by.

I see the sun in the trees, and I feel the psychedelic breeze.

Eating today:

porridge with dates and yoghurt-400
dates-20
two prawn crackers-10
two biscuits-60
a tex mex chicken wrap-400
a cookie (date and ginger)-200
a vegetable stir fry, comprising of broccoli,onion, tuna, light cream cheese and tomato puree.-150
date-20
sultanas-50
prawn crackers-20
2 biscuits-60
an options hot chocolate-40
spoonful of custard-10

1430. Not good. I walked today, not as much as I should have, but nontheless it was walking. I worry that prawn crackers have more calorific value than I accredit to them. I shall dictionary it.

After last nights entry I ate a brownie. Why do these mundane things create such panic in the pit of my porcine stomach? Really, if I look at what I eat, it's so much that it's a wonder I'm the size I am. I should be bigger.

I have got five recalls out of the six things I auditioned for the other day. Yes, it is only amateur theatre, and yes, I believe one of the recalls is because friends are directing it; but nontheless, four recalls isn't bad. I did really want to be in the thing I failed to be recalled for, but I can deal with it- two other things I'd love to be in have recalled me as well.

Recently, a friend of mine had a child. She was very young to be having one; I've known her for a long time. We're both twenty. I suppose this isn't so young nowadays, in the age of the teen mum. I've always supposed that if I got pregnant, I'd have it sucked out of me. That seems strange to think of now that a real child is alive and everyone is so happy about it; I don't think abortion was ever an option for her. I don't even think it would have been the right choice for her. Would it be for me? I'm not pregnant. But if I was to be, would I be that bad a mother? Would it ruin my life? I don't think it'll destroy hers; she's having time off work, they haven't got a house and they won't have holidays for a while but I think they'll turn out well. If anything, the child will give them impetus. Me? I'd finish here, I'd have to slave away to make enough to get by... with a baby. Incomprehensible.

The bad mother question is a big one for me; if I did get pregnant, my family would think it was best that it was gotten rid of. Because they're pro choice, and I have got to live my life. But the baby could become my life, and things would be hard but not impossible, am I that immature that I would be such a horrendous parent? I am selfish, petty, intolerant.. anyway. I am creating scenarios that will not occur.

Anyway, she's very happy with her baby (my parents tell me). I don't at all want a child now, of course, it would be far too much responsibility for me; but it has put my life into perspective. I worry about calories, school marks, social acceptance, roles in plays; my friend worries about a tiny person she maintains responsibility for. It shifts your whole view around; my Mum told me about it, then asked what I'd been doing with my week. Of course, she doesn't know about my dietary quirks, but telling her about auditions and messing around with stuff just seems so insignificant, comparatively. My friend is content, happy and I think she'll make a good Mum.

Isn't psychedelic the antithesis of phonological spelling?

Most children parent on the basis of avoiding pitfalls that their parents created. I can think of nothing that my parents have done that is wrong; I haven't got anything to avoid.

And so I face the wall, turn my back against the wall.

Eating today:

2 chocolate brownies 400

2 tangerines 40

broccoli, pasta, tuna and light mayonnaise 300

pic n mix (brazil nuts, chocolate caramel crisps, amounting all in all to 200g). - I dread to calculate. 800 at least.

Damn. It was so good till the pic n mix. I'd love to say that my pic n mix was 500 calories, then I'd be within the count; I suppose at least it's 1500. I walked a lot today.

I can't stop listening to the song Sex Crime, 1984, by the Eurythmics as it incorporates both Orwell and the music I adore. "Ich habe eine Ohrwurm", so als die Deutschen sagen wuerde. I am especially enjoying the dissolution of language they use, showing that they have gleaned some partial understanding of the text; "unborn, unliving" are negations of good concepts used to disenfranchise the masses from negative thoughts and expression regarding the government. I fear the advent of the text message, and textspeak (which I class on a par with newspeak, hampering language development) will have a similar effect on today's youth, and as they can't express themselves via language, or argue capably, they will have to resort to violence and gun crime (possibly also sex crime). Linguists would argue that language in textspeak is used in a new and creative way, but I would say that a text vocabulary is condensed and few neologisms arise; words are ran into one another and rendered unclear, aside from one meaning.

I saw a film with a friend today, which was lovely, and we had a good chat afterwards; I almost admitted my bisexuality, I think I conceeded it. She asked if there were any women or men on the horizon, comically, and I remarked there were none. So this is conceeding, but only to a comic remark? I don't really want to "come out" to everyone and have them categorise me, or to create a furore. I trust many of my friends not to do this; I don't know. I'll appear in a vagina related play, yet cannot divulge information about myself to my closest friends. This is because a play is someone else entirely; a different you that is not serious, a perfect you without the quirks and kinks. In front of strangers that will judge me, but that I cannot see (in der rampenlicht, bin ich taub- I am blind in the limelight- literally, I cannot see the audience for the dazzle) it's almost as if I'm alone in a room and they're not there at all. This is why I love acting; it is almost a surprise to me that others know of my expeditions into the thespian, as I seldom realise an audience is present.

I also went to an agency that aids prostitutes and drug addicts today (that's what wer'e giving the proceeds from the play to). It was so interesting; I felt I should have asked more questions, but I already understood a lot of what she was saying and didn't feel I could add anything. The woman that ran it was fantastic; a girl asked her what made her give up prostitution, and she said that how did we know she wasn't still a prostitute? I don't know what to think about prostitution; there seems to be something wrong with selling emotions, but I act, many people perform for careers, or con, many do jobs for worse money; aside from the health risks, why not sell your body as a commodity? Celebrities, vacuous idiots, do and reap rewards; I would rather be a prostitute than a Paris Hilton (though there isn't much distinction; the woman today was infinitely wiser than Paris and her acolytes). It was all very intriguing, and definitely made me think.

Good day, shame I'm a heiffer.

Consumption today reached ludic levels, continuing the blast of binge that has cumulated from fronts arising between willpower and self esteem.

Here is what I wish I had ate today:

tortellini (goats cheese and pesto) 450

A chicken wrap -240

tortellini again for dinner- 450

tomatoes-20

an apple (40)

a tangerine (20)

That would have been 1200; quite respectable.

But I also ate:

two brazil nuts coated in chocolate, half a white chocolate mouse and a fudge cube (pic n mix) (100)

two chocolate biscuits-160

dates (200)

three cocktails and a shot of tequila. The cocktails were martini-cosmopolitan types, not the fatty ones. Not that it makes much difference.

a slice of bread and low fat cream cheese. (100)

which adds a stupendous 560 calories, leaving out alcohol. I could say, I walked, I burned off some of it, I'm on my period and bound to eat more, but then I look at this list and think, no wonder I am fatty fat fat fat.

I did walk.

Let me explain the correlation between self esteem and willpower. Willpower arises from the knowledge that one can; for example, this occurs in academia; in other circles, where I was fairly authoritative, I can speak with wisdom and experience. Place me with high ranking intellectuals, and instead of feeling stimulated, I am intimidated by their vast swathes of knowledge as compared to my shallow puddle. Self esteem (knowing that I have fulfilled the ideal self of sticking to my allowance and maintaining my goals) is shattered when I look in the mirror and see my porcine reflection. Consequently, the goal is unreachable; I may as well eat what I will.

And I miss having someone; when I am lost in seas of adoration, it sustains me better than food can. It isn't even a butterflied stomach; it's just the idea of them. If I'm honest, the idea of being perfect for them. I don't think I've got much to offer; I could at least offer a half decent body. I suppose this could be applicable to general life. Also, that I don't want people to look at me and pity me. It's the pity; "God, look at the size of her", and the inevitable reflection on how I must be sad inside. I'm actually not; I am fairly happy, but, as with most people, I externalize happiness and internalize what is left.

I am worried about the amount of things I must memorise shortly. Vagina Monologue scripts and the like. I did have a good day today though; lots of laughter with my director in rehearsals, lots of laughing with friends after. I really like most of my cast, but not one specific girl; let's call her posersloane. Posersloane turned up to the first rehearsal with an air of malaise clad in a woolly hat AND sunglasses, in winter. SUNGLASSES IN WINTER. This is why I believe she is a complete penis. That, and she is too vocal concerning the directon of our play (our director is wonderful), and I always get a vibe from her that I'm not interesting enough to hold her noncholant attention; in short (and she is vertically challenged), she is up herself, dear readers. But there are some very interesting, amusing people as well; my favourites are two friends I've got already, they're very funny (we make up fake raps, which are terrible), my director (he is loud, and a man directing The Vagina Monologues), the producer's aide (quietly confident, clever, amusing jewish girl the same age as me), timid girl, small cockney girl, two girls I didn't know before but are very good actresses but not at all full of themselves, and the rest in general.