But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Repression Of Our True Selves Today was quite an interesting day. It started out with a cereal binge, half of which I puked up in the backyard, the other half in the shower. I was just lying on the couch when my mom announced that we were going to go out of town to look at carpet. Shit! I decided I would stay behind, but at the last minute decided to go with her. I was sitting on her bed when out of nowhere I started crying. I was crying because we were going to see a movie together yesterday, but than she decided to go along and take my brother and a bunch of his pals to the Vans skate park. Fine. So she promised that we would go today. Then she ditched. I was crying because she never does this to my brother, in fact she drops everything for him, just me. She started to feel bad and promised that we would stop at the mall on the way back. O joy. Dim can try on clothes, feel guilty about spending money, and see houw fat she is. We spent a few grueling hours in the carpet place, where I did most of the talking because I seem to have a math brain when it comes to purchases, and I feel a bit sorry for the man. By driving all the way out here to install our carpet at the price we are paying, to put it nicely we got the better deal. Off to the mall! Maybe it is just because I am so lonely, but I swear I see people I used to know at the mall. Into Gap I go. Size O... Always my size... They have none. Great. Saves me money. I buy a pair of PJ's. I notice that people are staring at me. I probably am too overdressed. Shouldn't have worn the skirt... Afterwards I am starving. I need a binge/purge. I beg to stop somewhere, but no one can agree on anything. Its my mom, her husband, and me. Finally we stop at A&W. Not my first choice, but anything will work. I order a large grilled chicken sandwich with cheese, fries, and a large chocolate shake. I eat like i haven't eaten in ages. My mom exclaims, "I have never seen you eat so fast!" I say, "I told you I was starving!" I really think, "Hah! This is nothing." There is a couple behind us in their mid-70's. The man keeps telling the woman what a loser she is, how she is messing up his order, how he is going to sit at another table, over and over again, until she is silently weeping. Finally, I can no longer stand it. I say, "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be nice to your wife!" He replies, "Huh? Oh she isn't my wife, thank God!" My mom says, "You don't have to take that! If it was me I would have slipped some arsenic in your food." He says, "She knows who is boss. Men rule the world. I have been married three times already." I say, suprising everyone especially myself, "Shows where you screwed up!" Then we get up to leave. I hear the woman whisper, "It's okay, don't listen to them." How can women take such verbal abuse? Why do we torture ourselves so, let ourselves be repressed in society? Ourselves are annihalated, not in the physical sense, but in the emotional."Fuck of world," as said by the lovely Ali. I slept on the car ride home. As soon as we hit the door I chugged some Diet Coke, ate some bread, and headed out to the lovely spot behind the pool to begin my grueling self torture. Gag, choke cough, sputter. Fat bitch. Spew already. Is everything up? After fifteen minutes and a severe faint feeling, I am done. But not for long. Even as I write this, a mere three hours later, I am already bingeing again. It never ceases. This is me. I shall die in a puddle of my own vomit someday, a reminder to the world of what a sick bitch I am. Take care everyone. May all your days be filled with love. Dimstar 11:03 p.m. - 2003-01-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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