She's got the glim, vigour and vim, black magic runs under watery skin.

I think... I think I might be over her. Just snap, like that, when I realised I liked her... but she maybe wasn't the one. I am jealous she has found new love first, but then again I am a jealous person and used to being romantically inept. I don't suppose I'll like anyone else for a while (non platonically) but I can deal with that. It was like a slow dulling of pain, till it became a small bolus in the back of my throat. A relief from the socking great wedge that was there before. I'm even a little bit glad she can be happy, if pissed off she lied to me about liking me in the first place. But I suppose she couldn't have done anything else.

One of my wondrous teachers is getting an MBE. This makes me very happy, knowing he will be rewarded for... well, I assume his teaching career. Though I am virulently anti monarchy. I shall write to him and tell him congratulations. Maybe with a card.

Eating today:

2 cookies (big fuck off ones) (600)
pesto and pasta (400)
apple (40)
some bean salad (130)
chocolate (200)
vodka and coke (100)

That is... shit, but not as bad as yesterday. So, well done me for improving. Less than 1600, so... hopefully I've created a deficit. I didn't eat when I got back from the pub. Fucking hell, why the chocolate? Tomorrow I will do some exercise and do better. Fatty excuses piss me off. Which is what I am making.

I watched a documentary on obese texans. Anything to do with extreme weights, or weight issues, fascinates me. Anyway, one woman was about 42 stone, I worked out. 645lbs. About four times what I weigh. And she had (or at least, maintained a facade of) being truly happy with herself. Power to her. But I thought that she was putting an unnecessary strain on health services, or was bound to in the future, and that you shouldn't be so delusional when you couldn't walk. I know people say the same about health for the dangerously thin, but they tend to at least die quietly of their heart attacks, and most are mobile up till the end. How can you be happy when you lose basic mobility, or are that uncomfortable, and know you've brought it upon yourself? She thought she looked hot in a black mesh body suit. To be fair, she had a point. Would I rather be obese with high self esteem or thin with low? As long as I was mobile. I like to think I'd pick being happy, because that is what I want. But being thin is something I've always wanted, from a small child. I felt people would look at me with wonder and amazement if I was a tiny dot, that was how it went in books and in real life. I was short and round, and definitely not pretty. But short at least. Then I grew, and now I seem to loom over everyone, which is disheartening. Like Madame Defarge in A Tale of Two Cities.

My romantic ponderings are as follows. I want someone who I like that likes me back, properly. So. The ponderings are as follows:
My friend's housemate, who could be best characterised as portly gentleman. He is lovely, clever, larger than me... shy. Tender and shy.
My best friend from home. I always assumed he and I would end up together, because we get on so well and have the same interests. We understand each other. There is affinity, where I know he is arrogant and I am too stupid, but it is there. He, however, has a german girlfriend. I am glad she is not pretty. This makes me a bad person. I know, deep down, that maybe I can win him. He got tipsy on new year and laid his head in my lap.
Jewish gay man. He is also intelligent, a bit snotty, moody; gay. However, I did have a crush on him. He is good looking. I like that he says, "that's so funny" deadpan, instead of laughing. And sometimes if we go out and I am wearing a low cut dress he will kiss my bare back, little butterfly kisses. So maybe he is not so gay after all.

There are no women on the horizon. I can't think of any at the moment that are even remote possibilities. I don't think any of the men are either, but it is nice to hypothesise.

Blah blah blah

Bombazine doll (I need a new epiteth) definitely does like someone else, the girl I whined about with musical skill and dark curly hair. And all those other fantastic attributes in which I am sadly lacking. Ugh. The whole affair is just redolent of ugh. That is the only noise I can make about how I feel about the whole thing, and how stupid I feel in general. Just so stupid not to realise she didn't like me like that. I feel so angry and jealous and disgusted with myself for feeling like that.

All that which in me I abhor, holds me tight to what went before....

So I'll trickle back into dieting in the hope that when she sees me again I'll be a tiny petite little thing and she'll pity me and hold me, and I will be able to be what I want because who can hate someone with a perfect figure?

That is all complete bullshit, and I know it. Well, really I must not know it at all to be thinking it, must I?

I went on a walk today and shouted some poetry into bleak urban landscape, which is incredibly pretentious. But noone heard and it felt good to scream some Sylvia Plath, a bit of Coleridge. Some Eurythmics, haha. Before falling on my arse in mud and scratching my back with brambles. I waved to a farmer who didn't really see me. I sprang over tufts of sodden grass and watched each tiny metal carriage on the carriageway drift by not knowing a girl in the field was jumping and singing and living. I trailed down an embankment and slid, I hopped over tree falls and crept through witchways covered over with bony grey brittle branches that caught at my coat and begged me to stay. I checked behind me in case they were holding me hostage, and mused that as a child, I never thought of the bottles on the floor as being for drug use. I didn't think that they were because people loved fizzy drinks; I just didn't think. I looked to see if junkies desperate for a fix or some rape were following me and carried on. The wind blew my hair back into my eyes. I am always hindering myself. I followed a dirty brook and thought how I fit into this landscape; these fields so close to polluting motorway that reclaim bits of it anyway, this permanent contradiction where one is always trying to take over the other. I liked it. On a bridge near an industrial park, bridging the wild (I call it wild, it is just fields and trees and half stiles in mud) there were brambles over a road block. Weeds. Weeds will tear you down and scratch away artifice, once humanity is gone, I am sure of it. It made me feel better.

I ate:

a breakfast (mushrooms, tomatoes, beans, a sausage, a potato thing) (300)

six minstrels and a happy hippo (175)

a crumpet and a potato cake (300)

some pasta and bean (100)

some thai curry (300)

a happy hippo (125)

an apple (40)

a light mocha frappucino (100)

a biscuit (60)

1500 exactly. Still too much, but I'll go to uni and be away from all this ridiculous food. I always feel it is more than I write, I must begin a food diary. This is almost one.

My Mum talked to me today about how my sister has put on weight. She won't say anything to her, just encourage her to make healthy food choices. I can't see she has, but apparently her clothes are getting tighter. She's ten. She's always been a bit chubby, but not obese or anything. I don't think you can do anything about it when you're a kid- you are or aren't fat. She is, but she'll slim out. And she's pretty so she doesn't have to worry so much. I was fat and ugly, still am. Shame. I think she'll work out that healthy food encouragement is because she's getting bigger- I think I did. And also that that'll bug her, because she probably will eat healthily in an attempt to lose weight but not lose any because she's fated to be chubby till she's thirteenish, like me and my brother did (yes, I am still fat but not as fat as I was). I remember my parents never believing I ran round at playtime, though I did, as much as my skinny friends, and even then I knew it was because I was fat. I don't want my sister to know. I don't know how I can be a good role model for her. She saw me lose lots of weight and get lots of attention. She saw me put it back on, and probably people say things behind my back. The best I'm doing is not being critical of myself and using fat as a descriptive as opposed to in the perjorative form. But it must seep through- all children absorb their elder's self esteem. I don't want her to absorb mine!