Sometimes I love that no one reads these.

So it's the end of the world and everyone's biggest concern is that I am fat. I know I am fat. There are many versions of myself that I could be and this is the fat, insecure, angry lonely one. Awful I know, and no one hates her former less evolved self than the more evolved version looking back at it.

However, there is this crazy inner rationalization that it's the end of the freaking world, I am screaming out for help or love or attention of any kind and the closest thing I get. Is a piece of pizza from some kind hearted servant of God. And ya know what... I am freaking grateful for it. I am I drool over every delectable savory inch of that pizza with absolutely no regrets or shame...

Until I get back to that god forsaken full length mirror in the bathroom that I have to get completely naked in front of before I shower.... I see it the dimples that have long since my chubby adolescence disappeared, they're creeping back in. But then I stop and I think, I was almost a size 1, skinnier and fitter than ever, my hair was long blonde, I just pierced my nose and for the first time EVER I looked in the mirror and thought shit, I am hot, I am not only hot but I worked hard for it, I ran in nature, I ran through all of my negative thoughts and up to the top of the hill with the hopes of everything I hoped I would find in a husband. When I got to the top of that hill, I would cross my legs and meditate over my hometown on a dried up well, at the end of meditation I would pray to God and the more often I would do this, I swear on my life the clouds would parts as if either the warmth of my heart matched the warmth of the sun as I expressed my love for him and the thought of the future, or because he was quite literally smiling at me. Echoes of my ex "love of my life's" "hopeful" comments still echoed in the back of my mind as I was getting there. That being homeless wouldn't be so bad, and I should "be okay" as long as I ran 1 mile a day. Well I was running 2.8 with gnarly hills and I felt uber okay.

Once I was finally okay with my body and I passed my final to become a Pop Pilates instructor I finally felt good enough for Blake. Then I realized that I was good enough for him when we were kids and just met, our love was instant well almost instant and our sex was great. I felt good about me then I was no longer large and had lost a lot of weight. He moved in like right away since we could hardly stand to be apart anyways it seemed ridiculous to pay 2 rents. It was all good, until, that is, he saw the "truth" the truth was.. that he came

from a small town called Edgar Springs Missouri left his baby mama to become an actor in California. In Edgar Springs I would have probably happily rocked his world all over town without end..well and I eventually did. I was older, him younger, loads of fun. And yes, I feel guilty, and that is why we eventually broke up. But, he we are now, a cool 30 minutes from Los Angeles California with a cute ass country boy

with Hollywood

aspirations, oh and did I mention, my best friend growing up was a porn star. These we'll call them home tits are not looking so hot now, you can make it into Hollywood without being the hottest thing around but the game is gnarly. I am the first business school grad in my family totally happy with my weight loss and I let him and it all eat me alive. If I could have chopped off my feet to lose those extra 3 inches of height my "friend" had on me at the time I probably would of done it. All

is fair in love except to yourself to yourself it is either the best or gnarly destructive, toxic, and painful.

On top of that, we tripped on acid and went on a gnarly journey to find ourselves, and why we were the way we were. I was an obese child, and the reasons why are just as sad and disgusting as you would think. Someone give me a hug. shit. and ouch ouch. So to my point, after a lot of heroine, we will say unhealthy sex, leading to even more unhealthy black magic and MAJOR spiritual problems after a lifelong hooker and a drug

addict trick/trap you into having fatherless children homeless on the streets while the "run dope" in your name but don't give you any money for it. I am right back here. In the thick of it morbid obesity is so much more than that. The sick sadness that fuels the spiritual rut this is is almost hard to believe. If you've ever been a real drug addict it's exactly like that "well fuck it I want to die right now anyways, so I might as well...eat 3 pieces of pizza and die later". Not a good place to be but the alternative of sitting there without the pizza pissed that you can't even afford a pizza, every friend you ever had literally is hurting you with their dope game, does not love or want you or give a flying shit if your kids lives are ruined because they

wanted to get layed by a hooker they couldn't pay for. OR you can sit there and shamefully eat the pizza, get fat, and use that fat as the excuse why you just couldn't catch that next or that last guy who would for sure be the good father that the girls deserve. I want to start a

Dr. Ruth tribute YouTube channel,maybe just so I can find another sane person to eventually have HEALTHY low pressure not Earth or ego shattering sex with geeze.

I also think this suffering is great and maybe I could be good at it to. So I will probably eat today. I will pretend that it is to be healthy, but it's really just because I am weak, I half don't care, remember squishy mommys are really good for hugging and my girls and I have an amazing amount of hugs to make up for. I hear my not friend in the back of my mind, but you are poor and homeless, wouldn't it be better not to be fat to. This is a question that could and would only come from someone who does not know what it's like to be pushed to the brink. of course being skinny to would be better, but when I was skinny tan, about the cutest damsel that ever got totally fucked off and fucked on that you can imagine that honestly just confused me more because I could always blame my fat for my social issues now I might have to dig deeper and now at least I can cry into my pizza and yes chocolate cake in all forms still makes me smile when it's over. I will also enjoy 1) peeling off the layers again so I am unrecognizable from this humiliated version of myself who cannot seem to successfully even get a drink at 33. I do not know, my kids were taken, the cops are crooked, the pandemic outside is awful, and I thought I was running to somewhere more wholesome and had to run all the way back when it looked like the zombie apocalypse..like I said damsel..hero still unseen. well mostly there where some short and hopeful intervals along the way but maybe that just hurt worse to keep a real hope alive and then the let down after

they fuck the hookerface,, excuse me I mean ex best friend. And really if I cannot find a guy who is 1 willing to pretend to just want to be my friend and not f me on the spot so I don't have to deal with all my assault ptsd issues and natural born awkwardness in this time and 2 going to love my juicy thick still beautiful self... then there is no hope for real love anyways

and I might as well just pack it in because it's going to be me and the girls for the next 18. :) To bad my body was faintly reminded that I am a woman, who hasn't been in a relationship for years...and the damn hunger... so now I am trying to get back to working out and to maybe looking into sexology because most of these guys don't even know they are seriously more fucked up than I am and maybe instead of hurting all our feelings we can both have sex and work through eachother's issues...when I have a babysitter and am far away from the girls anyways. hmm.