Putting on the fat pants.

Hey there,

I haven't felt very inspired to write lately since, well, no one reads this. On the other hand, that's not what this is about. What did I expect? That my words would be wisdom to someone else?

I've been going to group therapy and doing my "homework" like a good girl. I'm starting to hate not working. You know those stories you read about actors who get a movie part where they have to gain forty pounds and they wind up sitting around eating ice cream and butter? Yeah, well, I'm there. I just made my second macaroni and cheese casserole of the week. I bought a pair of pants at the thrift store a month ago because I wasn't fitting into my (albeit SKINNY) jeans. Now I barely fit in the new pants. This is keeping in mind that I actually exercise regularly, and have never been above 120 pounds in my life. I can actually feel my stomach shaking as I walk. Although, I can't complain about this to any of my girl friends, because they'd just get pissed that I'm "so skinny" and have nothing to complain about. I don't, image wise, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel like I'm carrying around 20 pounds of unnatural weight for ME.

I actually can't believe I just wrote a paragraph about feeling fat. WHO HAVE I BECOME??? Ugh, shoot me.

I think I just don't have enough to do. I just eat, sleep, and have terrible nightmares (they're BAAAA-AAAACK.) Maybe it's the meds, maybe it's my head. Regardless, night-time is no fun any more.

On a gross note, part of the dreams I had last night (the less disturbing part, believe it or not) was about me getting my THIGHS pierced. I used to work as a body piercer, and I also have many piercings, but this was a bit much. I dreamt that my mother (who was trying to kill me and had no pupils) and I went to a mall and ended up in some super pagan ritual where I got an 8 guage needle pierced through each inner thight. I had a chain attached to the two needles. I remember asking: "How am I supposed to wear pants??" and someone responded, "you don't. You wear a skirt." The feminist in me is itching to analyse the whole "thighs chained together, can't wear anything but a skirt" situation, but I digress.

Fast forward to my dance lesson. In the old studio I went to when I was eight. I realized immediately that I couldn't dance with my thighs chained together, and entered a porta-potty which was something out of "The worst toilet in Scotland" from Trainspotting. There was shit particles everythere, and the sink was full of shit as I attempted to wash my hands around it so I could remove these GIANT needles. The last part of the dream was me putting a hot soaked ball of TP over the piercing, and pulling out each needle. I can handle a lotta gore, but this dream was heinous. On a funny note, I think that despite the fact that this was not the part of my dreams that I would have classified as a "nightmare", that an ex-piercer's TRUE nightmare would be removing fresh piercings in a shit-coated porta potty. Just saying.

Hopefully I will be able to sleep tonight without being haunted by the pupil-less relatives who are trying to slaughter me.

xoxo-
PS