Warning (unduly since I don’t think anyone is reading this!) — I am in a mood and this will reek of “woe is me,” which I need to get out of my system once a week or so.
I am too young for a midlife crisis, but I’m having one. Okay, not a midlife crisis per se, but an identity crisis of sorts. I’ve always maintained that I am not an ED, because, well, I’m not. I might not know who I am, but it’s always easier to do the beginning steps of the process of elimination than to arrive at an ultimate conclusion. So I know what I’m not, I don’t know what I am, and that effectively leaves me in no-man’s land with nobody and nothing to call my own. Lovely.
Not that I have ample opportunities, as I generally don’t seem to inspire warm and fuzzy feelings in people, but given half a chance, I guess I hold others at arms length… and for good reason! I have amassed enough rejection and it comes on unsolicited, so I really see little sense in basically asking for more of it. There isn’t any reason I can think of why not to hate me, so I can understand that sentiment in other people. Which is totally different from liking it. I’m conflicted about it, though… if I understand it, then why do I even care at all?! Why should anyone else care? I don’t even care enough.
Even more ironic is the fact that when asked point-blank what is so abhorrent about myself, I can’t quantify it. I just know that there’s something there. (Or not there, depending upon how you look at it.) I only wish I could figure it out. It’s fine to be a loner if you choose to… it’s an entirely different story if you choose to be a loner because you have no other option, a la moi. I mean, really. I’d be completely screwed if I were a social butterfly type, because being as solitary as I am would make me want to kill myself!
I have a feeling that I am absolutely not conveying what I am trying to say here. I guess it doesn’t really matter, since I’m the one reading this, and I already know what I mean! Still, it’s nice not to have to struggle to put things into words…
Anyway. As I said, I am in quite a mood. Of the “I am useless / worthless / fat / ugly / hopeless / choose your self-abusive adjective” variety. I tried the whole prettifying food thing, and it still feels like crap…
To be honest, I am completely and utterly disgusted with myself right now. I am sick of eating when I am not even hungry. I am sick of eating, period. I just feel like a fat pig and I shouldn’t be doing that because it’s not like I can even afford it. But then I get reamed out because “You didn’t have two Boosts today!” Please. I don’t even need one, so why are we making all this fuss??
In an attempt to make myself slightly less hideous, I decided it was about time I get my eyebrows threaded. It hurt like a bitch… though it’s a small price to pay when compared to the way waxing tears off a layer of skin, thus making me walk around with eyes that are half-closed for three days. At least my eyebrows look halfway decent now. For a few days anyway.
Have I mentioned that I hate packing? I abhor it, absolutely loathe it… I’m actually very good at it when I’m doing it for other people, but when I’m doing it for myself, I am a complete disaster. Isn’t that always the way? … I think I might finally have finished, though. All packed up in my new hot pink rolling duffel, bought solely because it is hot pink and will be easier to spot on the carousel! And because a duffel is a hell of a lot lighter than a suitcase, which means I can put more crap in there. Quite essential when lugging scuba gear. Which I am, alas, not doing this time around.
I think I have made it clear to my parents on several different occasions that I have absolutely no intention of eating the airline food, which is why I am making a point of taking my own along with me. (Ha — I love how I just make it sound like it won’t be a struggle to eat even that when you factor in that I am going to be sitting on my butt for twelve hours straight.) I’m willing to bet my eyeteeth that they’re going to harrass me about it anyway. The sun rises, the sun sets, my parents are on my case. Some things just never change.
Wow. I really do complain a lot. Jeez.