I've been in an odd place the past few weeks.
Visually, aesthetically, I will look at my body and say, 'Wow. There's my ideal. Right there. Purdyness.' Mentally, illogically, my brain screams, 'You are fat fat fat and you know it you fat bitch.'
And they're coming in with absolutely equal weight. Equal air time. I will vacillate between absolute confidence and absolute self-disdain within five minutes time. And back and forth. Again and again. Incessantly.
It's quite annoying, I assure you.
I've never found a thin body physically attractive (on females, don't talk to me about guys...) I suppose this never mattered much to me before because A: I was completely separate from the rest of the human race, something which I definitely don't believe now, and B: I was thinner than what I considered to be ideal in a female to begin with (which isn't anywhere near underweight), so I didn't see myself as a real candidate for female attractiveness.
My BMI has been hovering around 22.1. I've gone up and down by a few points here and there, depending on where I am in my binge and starve bulimic cycles, but that's the midpoint. That's where things have been evening out to.
And I like the way it looks a good deal. But I constantly feel fat, because I can't stop using that as a mask for the legitimate inadequacies I'm trying to avoid thinking about.
I am not in the world. I am not competent. I am not as intelligent or aware as I would like to be. I have no local friends or acquaintances. I am completely out of everything. I only exist in my room.
But I don't want to think about these things, so I mask it with 'I'm fat,' while simultaneously loving the way my body looks.
It's fucked up. It sucks. And I need to figure out a way to fix it. But I've been doing it for so fucking long that I don't know where to start. It's second nature.
Fuck up dinner: I'm fat.
Stumble while walking: I'm fat.
Stutter: I'm fat.
It is transference on a primal level, and it works.
I'm getting kindof drunk, and I'm sure I've said all this before. In weighted-up if nowhere else. So I'm just going to let it go for now.
Rebooting my computer mid-entry really threw my thoughts off.
revoless.
10:29 p.m.
August 09, 2003.
Listening to: Bright Eyes.
The internet is dying or 'It's not what you're like, it's what you like.'