13 pounds lost. 11 pounds regained. Dammit. This gaining and losing is apparently bad for my skin's elasticity. I need to shit or get off the pot. And I also need to watch my cussing. It's unbecoming, or something.
This is my first non-Pill PMS in 4 months. I'm scared. I already threw a half-empty diet coke bottle at the ex-bf's temple and told him to wreck his car and die. I just need to get through this week so I can have Sunday afternoon and evening completely, blissfully, to myself. Just two more, complete days of work to suffer through, to spend feeling inadequate and anxious. Which reminds me: I don't remember feeling so on the verge of an anxiety attack pre-Pill. Holy cow I need to see a real GP, not the lovely ladies from Planned Parenthood.
I ate too much to share, and I did the same thing for the week and a half before today. Why do you think I haven't been able to show my face here? Now, I'm downing a Lipton diet green tea and fighting sleep for another few minutes.
My boss, who I thought had feelings for me, apparently did not. I am unfazed. This is God's will. That grown man had no excuse for the things he said to me or the way he followed me around. [Which reminds me: am I the only person on the internets with an ED as well as a personal relationship with Jesus? I attend church VERY regularly and read my bible/pray often.]
Next week, I promise to be more present. To share more with the non-audience: about beauty, fashion, thinspo, and life. Tonight, I must sleep.