Don't pay him any attention

Remember when I was really very terribly sick last week and all I did was throw up for an entire day. And remember that I lost weight from being sick the entire day. sigh. The golden days.

So. I'm expecting my period. hhhmm...I should be getting it in four days. I can feel it in my body, it's ready to ruin my life for a few days. My ovaries are being stabbed by the little machete-carrying men that live in my abdomen because only men could be blamed for causing such physical pain to a woman. And my hormones are speed racing through my body. You know what this means...Ryan can enjoy being pounced on for the next four days. I already told him to expect it after it happened for the second time today. I can't help it, I'm turned on for at least five days. It's like I went from this ill chick, throwing up and moody, to just indifferent to everything, to clawing at my boyfriend for not getting it up fast enough. insert evil grin here. And the funniest part of it all, which I will share with everyone on this blog just because it's that funny, he and I were doing things and I couldn't help but to make noise, and there's a knock at the door. I ask in a huff who it is and it's Victoria asking if it's okay to come in. Five minutes later, after we're dressed I let her in the room, and he and I tried so hard not to laugh. Ryan wanted to know how long she was standing in front of the door until she knocked. I said she probably heard from the elevator down the hall and just knew that she was the lucky one to interrupt the O fest going on in her room. It was just funny. And if you don't laugh at that, you have no funny bone and you aren't American.

No other lover

I had crap for dinner last night. I think I'm gonna go walking soon. Just around da hood for a bit. Listen to some good music. Then take a shower and go shopping for Baby Gus :)

Oh, and I miss having a dog. You have no idea. I really want one.

Sometimes it's a sad song

I consider myself a fairly level-headed person. I mean, even when I don't do the most level-headed things, I am still conscious of it's unlevel-headedness. I know right from wrong fairly well and I know myself pretty well. But sometimes I have thoughts that are not level headed; they are down right stupid. And I know they are stupid but I cannot help but to think them and want to carry them out. For instance, the way my thoughts have been thinking (?) I am afraid of developing bulimia or annorexia. I haven't felt so horrible about my physical appearance in a very long time. And I think that this is the heaviest I have been in my entire life (taking into account, height/weight ratio, as well as age and muscle mass). Since the beginning of Freshman year I have gained a significant amount of weight. And it's never been so difficult to get rid of it. I know what I should do to make it better: exercise and a better diet. But it's hard to exercise with a million things to do all of the time. It's hard to eat properly when my skinny boyfriend can eat everything in sight and not gain weight, thus he persists on eating like a king everytime we go out to eat. Dining out is easily associated with filling yourself until you want to vomit because it's a treat to go out to eat. But Ryan and I eat out at least four times a week. And yes, at first I didn't eat a lot, but then you want a lot, and then you realize clothes don't fit as well, so cutting down is key...but food is a drug thus it's difficult to cut down. And I have realized that I have to be careful about what I eat. Every meal I eat has to be simple. I'm starting the habit of eating lots of little things throughout the day. I have grown to hate--no, abhor--food. I hate myself for being hungry. I hate myself for wanting food. I hate myself when I actually eat the food. I know I need food but I hate that I can easily gain weight for eating out while some people don't have that problem at all. I hate that it's obvious that I have put on weight. I hate that every advertisement on web pages is for weight loss; it only makes me think of my weight gain even more. I hate that I don't have the time or resources to eat healthier. I hate that another is invited to my body; I cannot keep my flaws to myself. I hate not seeing immediate results. And I hate hating the above. Why? Because it's foolish. I used to be so smart about myself. I knew that results wouldn't happen overnight, but now, when I come back from the gym, I look at myself to see how much I lost. I used to roll my eyes at the girls who would loathe themselves because they weren't skinny. And now I'm becoming one of those girls. I hate that I'm not healthy. I hate that I don't look healthy. I hate that I don't think in a healthy manner. I hate the world for making skinny the ideal. A couple hundred years ago, my body would have been da bomb. I would have been idolized for my child-bearing hips, nourished body and fatty breasts. And now, on websites, in stores, on TV, in magazines I am belittled for not being a size two. And ya know what? A fully grown woman in a size two doesn't look healthy anyway, so fuck you size two.

I get it now.



I didn't eat yesterday and
I'm not gonna eat today and
I'm not gonna eat tommorow.
Coz I'm gonna be a supermodel.
Supermodel, so beautiful.
I'm gonna be a supermodel.

I'm up on him, he up on me

If I could be anyone else in the world--beside myself--I would be Beyonce. And, honestly, who fucking wouldn't? She is way talented, smart , confident and way beautiful. And I'm listening to the song Single Ladies on Youtube (duh!) and someone said that Beyonce has huge thighs...what the fuck? She is HEALTHY. And she looks healthy. Sorry if her legs aren't stilts, asshole.



***



I can tell that Ryan loves me. It's in the little things that you can see it most. It's like saying "I love you" isn't enough. Those three words are like the thesis and all of the little things are the quotes and statements that prove that remark. Anyone can say "I love you" but love is only certain in the little doings. And I know he loves me. It's a fact that he loves me. I guess all of those love songs are correct: it's in his kiss. And the way he hugs, cuddles, tickles, touches and caresses me. It's the way he pushes my hair out of my eyes and the way his fingers run through my locks when he's kissing me. It's the way I catch him smiling and gazing at me when we're in the car at a red light. It's the way he will do anything for me, no matter how out of the way it puts him. I can tell that he loves me when I wear my hair a different way and he smiles and his eyes get wide. When he says I'm beautiful over and over again until I no longer tell him to shut up, when he calls me just to hear my voice because he misses me. How he still holds my hand while he's driving, even though his left hand is tired of steering and is on the verge of falling asleep. Tonight, we hung out in his car for about half of an hour because we both knew Victoria would be in the room and we just wanted to be alone. And we sat in his car, in the cold, and watched the world go by...listening to The Beatles, of course. And, randomly, I said we should have a contest to see if we could last a week without kissing one another anywhere. And he seemed truly bothered by it and was adamant that he couldn't and wouldn't be able to last a week. That he has to kiss me when he feels like or else he will go crazy. So, instead, we opted for ten minutes. And once that was done, and we kissed for two minutes or so, I asked him how it felt to kiss me after ten minutes. And he said that it felt like breathing after staying under water for too long. And I thought that was the cutest thing. Mostly because it is! I guess he and I are a living testament to online dating, eh? Not that we are the first, and I'm sure we won't be the last, but we're like those couples on the TV commercials that talk about meeting one another. And looking back on the online thing, it was fucking crazy and I guess I was too young to want to make an account to meet men. But, hey. The okcupid thing is just like meeting someone randomly by the chopped meat in Stop & Shop; you know very little about them but ya take the chance anyway. And, as long as you're careful about talking and meeting people, then I guess you can get lucky. I mean, Ryan still may make me chopped meat one day, but as of now I'm willing to take that risk.